UC-NRLF 


t  C0(ten; 


A    GOT 


FOR     ^LLL     SEASONS 


NEW  YORK: 
D  .     A  P  P  L  E  T  O  N     &     COMPANY, 


34C  &  348  BROADWAY. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  CongrePs,  in  the  yoar  If  56,  by 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO. 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  compilation  of  this  volume  the  Editor  claims  but  one 
merit — that  of  having  made  a  good  and  judicious  selection. 
It  was  not  his  aim  to  make  an  Annual,  composed  entirely, 
or  in  part,  of  original  matter ;  but  to  collect  and  bring 
together,  some  of  the  most  charming  stories  which  have 
appeared,  from  time  to  time,  as  bright  scintillations  of  ge 
nius,  in  the  preeminently  beautiful  literature  of  Germany. 
To  avoid,  however,  the  probable  danger  of  giving  it  an  ex 
clusively  German  tone,  recourse  has  been  had  to  the  litera 
ture  of  England,  and  such  selections  made  therefrom  as  are 
likely  to  be  new  or  interesting,  from  old  associations,  to 
American  readers.  But  that  the  major  part  of  the  work  is 
composed  of  translations  from  the  German,  will  be  the 
occasion,  it  is  hoped,  of  no  regret;  since  the  history  of 
Literature  presents  but  few  names  worthy  of  being  ranked 
with  JEAN  PAUL,  LUDWIG,  TIECK,  HAUFF,  HOFFMANN, 
etc.,  etc. !  When  the  Germans  write,  they  seek  to  combine 
instruction  with  amusement ;  they  look  into  the  recesses  of 
the  human  heart,  where  they  find  the  key  to  our  passions ; 

.  1609S'? 


4  PREFACE. 

and,  consequently,  their  literary  productions,  though  often 
fantastic,  are  ever  certain  to  bear  the  impress  of  psycho 
logical  truth  and  profundity.  Their  writings  are,  indeed,  free 
from  all  kinds  of  supranatural  cant ;  and  raised  to  that  throne 
of  beauty,  truth,  and  wisdom,  accorded  in  English  literature 
to  the  "Rasselas"  of  DR.  JOHNSON,  and  to  poor  GOLDSMITH'S 
"  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  In  short,  whatever  exterior,  fantas 
tical  or  picturesque,  the  ideas  of  a  great  German  author 
may  assume  ;  concealed  beneath  such  a  garb,  the  attentive 
reader  will  be  certain  to  find  inculcated,  noble  lessons  of 
Life  and  Art !  And  hence  it  is,  perhaps,  that  it  has  been 
said  of  the  following  stories,  "  that  in  point  of  instruction 
and  amusement,  they  have  those  characteristics,  which,  like 
the  *  Arabian  Nights,'  transport  Youth  and  Old  Age  to  a 
common  ground  of  interest." 

M.  A.  C. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOK 

The  Moon, JEAN  PAUL  FBIEDBIOH  BICHTEK,     .      9 

The  World, 25 

The  Mysterious  Wedding .    A  Danish 

Story, HENEY  6TEFFENS,          ...  26 

Bannock  Burn.    Eobert  Bruce's  Ad 
dress  to  his  Army,     .       .       .       BOBBET  BUBNS 87 

The  Klausenburg,        ....    LTJDWIG  TIECK,  ....  89 

Auld  Kobin  Gray,     ....       LADY  ANNE  LINDSAY,    .       .       .  104 

The  Magician.    A  Harz  Story, 107 

The  Two  Paths, 116 

The  JesHits'  Church.    An  Art  Tale,  .    E.  T.  w.  HOFFMANN,  .       .       .  118 

The  Campagna  of  Florence, 161 

Claude  Eovani, HON.  MBS.  EESKINE  NOBTON,     .  174 

The  Field  of  Battle,         .       .       .       w.  n.  MAXWELL,     .        ...  213 

Nose,  the  Dwarf, w.  HAUFF, 221 

The  Treasure.    A  Swiss  Legend,     .       j.  B.  WYSS, 265 

The  Lover's  Last  Visit, 278 


LIST     OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


SUBJECT. 

ENGRAVER. 

PAGE 

MOONLIGHT,        

,    W.  HILL,    . 

Frontispiece. 

BRUCE, 

J.  W.  COOK, 

37 

AULD  ROBIN  GRAY,  . 

.    H.  ROLLS 

104 

THE  MAGICIAN,       .... 

S.  DEVONPORT, 

107 

THE  COUNCIL,    

W.  RADCLIFFE,  . 

.     116 

VIEW  OF  THE  CAMPAGNA, 

S.  FISHER, 

161 

VENETIAN  MANSION,        .        .        . 

E.  CHALLIS,      . 

174 

WATERLOO,         .  '      .        . 

ENGLEHART, 

213 

THE  ACCEPTED,     .... 

CHARLES  ROLLS,     . 

278 

THE    TOKEN. 


THE    MOON. 

BY   JEAN   PAUL   FRIEDRICH   RICHTEK. 

WHEN,  0  Eugenius  and  Kosamond  ! — you,  whom 
I  may  no  longer  designate  by  your  right  names — I 
was  first  about  to  tell  your  short  history,  my  friends 
and  I  walked  into  an  English  garden.**  We  went 
by  a  new-painted  coffin,  on  the  foot-board  of  which 
was  written  :  "  I  pass  away."  Above  the  verdant 
garden  rose  a  white  obelisk,  with  which  two  sister- 
princesses  had  marked  the  spot  where  they  now  met 
and  embraced,  and  the  inscription  on  which  was  : 
"Here  we  have  found  each  other  again."  The  point  of 
the  obelisk  was  glittering  in  the  full  moon,  and  here 
I  told  my  simple  story.  But  do  thou,  gentle  reader, 

draw — which  is  as  much  as  coffin  and  obelisk — draw, 

IP 

*  Or,  perhaps,  "  angelic  garden,"  meaning  a  churchyard.      The 
reading  given  above  is  most  probably  correct. 

2 


10  THE  TOKEN. 

I  say,  the  inscription  on  the  coffin  into  the  ashes  of 
oblivion,  and  write  the  letters  of  the  obelisk  with 
pure  human  heart's  blood  in  thy  inmost  self. 

Many  souls  drop  from  heaven  like  flowers  ;  but, 
with  their  white  buds,  they  are  trodden  down  into 
the  mud,  and  lie  soiled  and  crushed  in  the  print  of 
a  hoof.  You  also  were  crushed,  Eugenius  and  Kos- 
amond.  Tender  souls  like  yours  are  attacked  by 
three  robbers  of  their  joys — the  mob,  whose  rough 
gripe  gives  to  such  soft  hearts  nothing  but  scars ; 
destiny,  which  does  not  wipe  away  the  tear  from  a 
fair  soul  full  of  brilliancy,  but  the  lustre  should  psr- 
ish  also,  as  we  do  not  wipe  a  wet  diamond,  lest  it 
should  grow  dim  ;  your  own  hearts,  which  rejoice 
too  much,  and  enjoy  too  little,  have  too  much  hope, 
and  too  little  power  of  endurance.  Kosamond  was 
a  bright  pearl,  pierced  by  anguish — parted  from  all 
that  belonged  to  her,  she  only  quivered  in  her  sor 
rows  like  a  detached  twig  of  the  sensitive  plant  at 
the  approach  of  night — her  life  was  a  quiet  warm 
rain,  and  that  of  her  husband  was  a  bright  lost  sun 
shine.  In  his  presence  she  averted  her  eyes,  when 
they  had  just  been  fixed  on  her  sick  child,  that  was 
only  two  years  old,  and  was  in  this  life  a  wavering 
thin-winged  butterfly,  beneath  a  pelting  shower. 
The  imagination  of  Eugenius,  with  its  too  large 
wings  snattered  his  slight,  delicate  frame  ;  the  lily 
bell  of  his  tender  body  could  not  contain  his  mighty 
soul ;  the  place  whence  sighs  originate,  his  breast, 


THE   MOON.  11 

was  destroyed  like  his  happiness.  He  had  nothing 
left  in  the  world  but  his  affectionate  heart,  and  for 
that  heart  there  were  but  two  human  beings. 

These  persons  wished,  in  the  spring-time,  to 
quit  the  whirlpool  of  mankind,  which  beat  so  hardly 
and  so  coldly  against  their  hearts.  They  had  a 
quiet  cottage  prepared  for  them  on  one  of  the  high 
Alps  opposite  to  the  silver  chain  of  the  Staubbach. 
On  the  first  fine  spring  morning  they  went  the  long 
road  to  the  high  mountain.  There  is  a  holiness 
which  sorrow  alone  can  give  in  its  purity ;  the 
stream  of  life  becomes  white  as  snow  when  it  is 
dashed  against  rocks.  There  is  an  elevation  where 
little  thoughts  no  more  intrude  between  sublime 
ones,  as  when  upon  a  mountain  one  sees  the  sum 
mits  close  to  each  other  without  their  connection  in 
the  depth  below.  Thou  hadst  that  holiness,  Kosa- 
mond,  and  thou  that  elevation,  Eugenius. 

A  morning  mist  was  gathered  round  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  and  in  that  three  fluttering  forms 
were  suspended.  These  were  the  reflections  of  the 
three  travellers,  and  the  timid  Kosamond  started, 
thinking  she  saw  herself.  Eugenius  thought,  "That 
which  the  immortal  spirit  hath  around  it  is,  after 
all,  but  a  denser  mist."  And  the  child  snatched  at 
the  cloud,  and  wished  to  play  with  its  little  misty 
brother.  One  single  invisible  angel  of  the  future 
accompanied  them  through  life  and  up  this  moun- 


12  THE    TOKEN. 

tain.      They  were  so  good  and  like  each  other  that 
one  angel  was  all  they  needed. 

As  they  ascended  the  angel  opened  the  book  of 
fate,  one  leaf  of  which  contained  the  sketch  of  a 
three-fold  life — every  line  was  a  day — and  when  the 
angel  had  read  the  line  that  belonged  to  this  day, 
he  wept  and  closed  the  book  for  ever. 

The  travellers,  in  their  delicate  condition,  re 
quired  nearly  a  day  to  arrive  at  the  desired  spot. 
The  earth  crept  back  into  the  valleys,  the  sky  rested 
itself  on  the  mountains.  The  waving,  glimmering 
sun  seemed  to  our  Eugenius  a  mirror  of  the  moon, 
and  he  said  to  his  beloved,  when  the  icy  summits 
had  already  cast  their  flames  upon  the  earth :  "I 
feel  so  weary,  and  yet  so  well.  Will  it  not  be  as  if 
we  left  two  dreams — the  dream  of  life  and  the  dream 
of  death — if  we  enter  the  cloudless  moon  as  the  first 
shore  beyond  the  hurricanes  of  life  ?  " 

"It  will  be  still  better,"  replied  Rosamond,  "for 
in  the  moon,  as  thou  hast  taught  me,  dwell  the  lit 
tle  children  of  this  earth,  and  their  parents  remain 
with  them  till  they  themselves  become  as  mild 
and  tranquil  as  children."  Then  they  proceed 
further. 

"Ay,  from  heaven  to  heaven — from  world  to 
world  !  "  said  Eugenius,  ecstatically. 

They  ascended  as  the  sun  declined  ;  when  they 
climbed  more  slowly,  the  mountain  summits  like 
rising,  loosened  branches,  concealed  them  from  the 


THE   MOON.  13 

luminary.  They  hastened  on  into  the  evening  glim 
mer,  which  was  already  advancing,  but  when  they 
had  reached  the  mountain  where  their  cottage  stood, 
the  eternal  mountains  stepped  before  the  sun  ; — 
the  earth  then  veiled  her  graces  and  her  cities, 
adoring  heaven,  before  it  looked  upon  her  with  all 
its  star-eyes,  while  the  waterfalls  laid  aside  their 
rainbows, — and  the  earth  spread  higher  for  heaven, 
which  was  bending  over  her  with  out-stretched 
cloud-arms,  a  gauze  of  golden  exhalations,  and  hung 
it  from  one  mountain  to  another,  and  the  icebergs 
were  set  on  fire,  so  that  they  glared  even  to  mid 
night,  while  opposite  to  them  on  the  grave  of  the 
sun  was  raised  a  towering  funeral  pile  of  clouds, 
forming  the  evening  glow  and  the  evening  ashes. 
But  through  the  glimmering  veil  kind  heaven  let 
its  evening  tears  fall  deep  into  the  earth,  even  upon 
the  humblest  grass  and  the  smallest  flower. 

Oh,  Eugenius,  how  great  then  did  thy  soul  be 
come  !  The  life  of  earth  lay  at  a  distance  and 
far  below  thee,  free  from  all  the  distortions  which 
we  see  in  it,  because  we  stand  too  near  it,  as  the  dec 
orations  of  shorter  scenes  change  from  landscapes 
to  mis-shapen  strokes  when  we  look  at  them  closely. 

The  two  living  ones  embraced  each  other  with  a 
long  and  gentle  embrace,  as  they  stood  before  the 
cottage,  and  Eugenius  said :  "Oh,  thou  quiet, 
eternal  heaven^,  take  nothing  more  from  us  ! "  But 
his  pale  child  with  its  snapped  lily-head  was  before 


14  THE    TOKEN. 

him ;  he  looked  at  the  mother,  and  she  lay  with  her 
moistened  eye  reaching  into  heaven,  and  said  softly ; 
"  0  take  us  all  at  once  ! " 

The  angel  of  futurity,  whom  I  will  call  the  angel 
of  rest,  wept  as  he  smiled,  and  his  wings  swept 
away  the  sighs  of  the  parents  with  an  evening  breeze, 
that  they  might  not  sadden  each  other. 

The  transparent  evening  flowed  round  the  red 
mountain  like  a  bright  lake,  and  washed  it  with  the 
circles  of  cool  evening  waves.  The  more  the  even 
ing  and  earth  grew,  still  the  more  did  the  two  souls 
feel  that  they  were  in  the  right  place.  They  had 
no  tears  too  many,  none  too  few,  and  their  bliss 
needed  no  other  increase  than  its  repetition.  Euge- 
nius  sent  the  first  harmonious  tones  floating  like 
swans  through  the  pure  Alpine  sky.  The  weary 
child,  twined  in  a  flowery  wreath,  leaned  against  a 
sun-dial,  and  played  with  the  flowers  which  it  drew 
around  it,  to  entwine  them  in  its  circle.  The  moth 
er  at  last  awoke  from  her  harmonious  transport ; 
her  eye  fell  on  the  large  eyes  of  her  child,  which 
opened  wide  upon  her ;  singing  and  smiling,  and, 
with  overflowing  motherly  love,  she  stepped  to  the 
little  angel,  which  was  cold  and  dead.  For  its  life, 
which  had  descended  from  heaven,  had,  like  other 
tones,  been  dissipated  in  the  atmosphere  of  earth ; 
death  had  breathed  upon  the  butterfly,  and  it  had 
ascended  from  the  rushing  streams  of  air  to  the  ever- 


THE   MOON.  15 

refining  ether ;    from  the  flowers  of  earth  to  the 
flowers  of  paradise. 

Oh,  ever  flutter  away,  ye  blessed  children !  The 
angel  of  rest  wakes  you  in  the  morning-hour  of  life 
with  cradle  songs,  two  arms  bear  you  and  your  little 
coffin,  and  your  body,  with  the  two  red  cheeks,  the 
forehead  free  from  the  print  of  grief,  and  the  white 
hands,  glide  down  by  a  chain  of  flowers  to  the 
second  cradle,  and  you  have  only  exchanged  one 
paradise  for  another.  But  we — oh,  we  are  crushed 
by  the  storm-winds  of  life  ;  our  heart  is  weary,  our 
face  is  deeply  marked  with  earthly  care,  and  our 
soul  stiffened,  still  clings  to  the  earthly  clod. 

Turn  away  thine  eye  from  Rosamond's  piercing 
shriek,  fixed  glance,  and  petrifying  features,  if  thou 
art  a  mother,  and  hast  already  felt  this  pain  !  look 
not  upon  the  mother,  who,  with  senseless  hand, 
squeezes  against  her  the  corpse  which  she  now  can 
not  stifle  ;  but  look  at  the  father,  who,  with  his 
breast,  silently  covers  his  struggling  heart,  although 
black  grief  has  twined  around  it  with  an  adder's 
folds,  and  poisoned  it  with  an  adder's  teeth.  Ah, 
when  he  at  last  had  conquered  the  pain,  his  heart 
was  envenomed  and  riven.  A  man  bears  the  pain 
of  the  wound,  but  sinks  under  the  scar :  a  woman 
seldom  combats  her  grief,  but  yet  she  survives  it. 
"  Remain  here,"  he  said,  with  a  suppressed  voice, 
"  I  will  lay  it  to  rest  before  the  moon  rises."  She 
said  nothing,  kissed  the  child  in  silence,  broke  up 


16  THE    TOKEN. 

its  wreath  of  flowers,  sunk  down  upon  the  sun-dial, 
and  laid  her  cold  face  upon  her  arm,  that  she  might 
not  see  it  carried  away. 

On  the  way  the  dawning  light  of  the  moon 
shone  upon  the  shaking  body  of  the  infant,  and 
the  father  said :  "  Burst  forth,  oh,  moon  !  that  I 
may  see  the  land  wherein  He  dwells.  Rise,  oh, 
Elysium  !  that  I  may  think  the  soul  of  the  corse  is 
within  thee.  Oh,  child,  child,  dost  thou  know  me — 
dost  thou  hear  me  ?  Hast  thou  above  so  fair  a  face 
as  this  one,  so  sweet  a  mouth  ?  Oh,  thou  heavenly 
mouth,  thou  heavenly  eye,  no  more  spirit  visits 
thee  ! "  He  laid  the  child  beneath  flowers  which 
supplied  the  place  of  all  that  we  are  generally  laid 
upon  for  the  last  time  ;  but  his  heart  was  breaking 
when  he  covered  the  pale  lips,  the  open  eyes,  with 
flowers  and  earth,  and  streams  of  tears  fell  first  into 
the  grave.  When  with  the  verdant  coating  of  the 
clods  he  had  built  a  little  mound,  he  felt  that  he 
was  weary  of  his  journey  and  of  life  ;  that  his 
weakly  chest  could  not  endure  the  thin  mountain 
air,  and  that  the  ice  of  death  had  settled  in  his 
heart.  He  cast  a  longing  glance  at  the  bereaved 
mother,  who  had  long  stood  trembling  behind  him, 
and  they  fell  silent  into  each  other's  arms,  and  their 
eyes  could  scarcely  weep  more. 

At  last,  from  behind  a'glacier  that  was  glimmer 
ing  out,  the  glorious  moon  flowed  forth  in  loveliness 
on  the  two  silent  unhappy  ones,  and  showed  them 
its  white  peaceful  meadows,  and  the  gentle  light 


THE   MOON.  17 

with  which  it  softens  man.  "Mother,  look  up," 
said  Eugenius  ;  "  yonder  is  thy  son  !  See  there, 
the  white  flowery  groves  in  which  our  child  will 
play,  are  passing  over  the  moon."  Now  a  burning 
fire  filled  his  inmost  self  with  consuming  power, — 
the  moon  made  his  eye  blind  to  all  that  was  not 
light ;  sublime  forms  rolled  before  him  in  the  light 
stream,  and  he  heard  in  his  soul,  new  thoughts 
which  are  not  indigenous  in  man,  and  are  too  great 
for  memory  ;  just  as  in  a  dream  small  melodies  may 
come  to  the  man  who  can  make  none  when  awake. 
Death  and  pleasure  press  upon  his  heavy  tongue. 
"  Rosamond,  why  sayest  thou  nothing  ?  Dost  thou 
see  thy  child  ?  I  look  beyond  the  long  earth,  even 
to  where  the  moon  begins.  There  is  my  son  flying 
between  angels.  Full  flowers  cradle  him, — the 
spring  of  earth  waves  over  him — children  lead  him 
— angels  instruct  him — God  loves  him.  Oh  !  thou 
dear  one,  thou  art  smiling ;  the  silver  light  of  para 
dise  flows  with  heavenly  radiance  about  thy  little 
mouth,  and  thou  hearest  me,  and  callest  thy 
parents.  Rosamond,  give  me  thy  hand  ;  we  will 
go  and  die  !  " 

The  slight  corporeal  chains  grew  longer.  His 
advancing  spirit  fluttered  higher  on  the  borders  of 
life.  With  convulsive  power  he  seized  the  para 
lyzed  Kosamond,  and  blind  and  sinking,  stammered 
forth,  "  Kosamond,  where  art  thou  ?  I  fly  !  I  die ! 
We  remain  together  ! " 
2* 


18  THE    TOKEN. 

His  heart  burst, — his  spirit  fled  ;  but  Kosamond 
did  not  remain  with  him,  for  fate  snatched  her  from 
his  dying  hand,  and  cast  her  back  upon  earth,  living. 
She  felt  if  his  hand  had  the  coldness  of  death,  and 
since  it  had,  she  placed  it  softly  against  her  heart, 
sunk  slowly  upon  her  failing  knees,  and  raised  her 
face,  which  had  become  inexpressibly  serene,  towards 
the  starry  power.  Her  eyes,  from  their  tearless 
sockets,  pressed  forth  dry,  large,  and  happy,  into  the 
sky,  and  therein  calmly  sought  a  supernatural  form, 
which  should  descend  and  bear  her  up.  She  almost 
fancied  she  was  dying  then,  and  prayed  thus : 
"  Come,  thou  angel  of  rest,  come  and  take  my  heart, 
and  bear  it  to  my  beloved.  Angel  of  rest  !  leave  me 
not  so  long  alone  among  the  corses.  Oh,  God  !  is  there 
then  nought  invisible  about  me  ?  Angel  of  death  ! 
thou  must  be  here,  thou  hast  already  snatched  away 
two  souls  close  by  me,  and  hast  made  them  ascend. 
I,  too,  am  dead,  draw  forth  my  glowing  soul  from  its 
cold  kneeling  corse." 

With  mad  disquiet,  she  looked  about  in  the  va 
cant  sky.  Suddenly,  in  that  still  desert,  a  star  shone 
forth,  and  wound  its  way  towards  the  earth.  She 
spread  her  arms  in  transport,  and  thought  the  angel 
of  rest  was  rushing  towards  her.  Alas  !  the  star 
passed  away,  but  she  did  not.  ".Not  yet  ?  Do  I 
not  die  yet,  All-merciful  One  ?  "  sighed  poor  Rosa 
mond. 

In  the  east  a  cloud  arose, — it  passed  jover  the 


THE   MOON.  1  19 

moon,  sailed  in  loneliness  across  the  clear  sky,  and 
stood  over  the  most  agonized  heart  upon  earth.  She 
threw  back  her  head,  so  as  to  face  the  cloud,  and 
said  to  the  lightning,  "  Strike  this  head,  and  release 
my  heart  ! "  But  the  cloud  passed  darkly  over  the 
head  that  was  thrown  back  for  it,  and  flying  down 
the  sky,  sunk  behind  the  mountains.  Then,  with  a 
thousand  tears,  she  cried,  "  Can  I  not  die  ?  Can  I 
not  die  ?" 

Poor  Rosamond  !  How  did  pain  roll  itself  to 
gether,  give  an  angry  serpent-spring  at  thy  heart, 
and  fix  in  it  all  its  poisonous  teeth.  But  a  weeping 
spirit  poured  the  opium  of  insensibility  into  thine 
heart,  and  the  bursts  of  agony  flowed  away  in  a  soft 
convulsion. 

She  awoke  in  the  morning,  but  her  mind  was  un 
settled.  She  saw  the  sun  and  the  dead  man,  but 
her  eye  had  lost  all  tears,  and  her  burst  heart  had, 
like  a  broken  bell,  lost  all  tone  ;  she  merely  mur 
mured,  "  Why  can  I  not  die  ?  "  She  went  back 
cold  into  her  hut,  and  said  nothing  but  these  words. 
Every  night  she  went  half  an  hour  later  to  the  corpse, 
and  every  time  she  met  the  rising  moon  which  was 
now  broken,  and  said,  while  she  turned  her  mourn 
ing,  tearless  eye  towards  its  gleaming  meadows, 
"  Why  cannot  I  die  ?  " 

Ay,  why  canst  thou  not,  good  soul  ?  for  the  cold 
earth  would  have  sucked  out  of  all  thy  wounds  the 
last  venom  with  which  the  human  heart  is  laid  be- 


20  THE    TOKEN. 

neath  its  surface,  just  as  the  hand  when  buried  in 
earth  recovers  from  the  sting  of  a  bee.  But  I  turn 
mine  eye  away  from  thy  pain,  and  look  up  at  the 
glimmering  moon,  where  Eugenius  opens  his  eyes 
among  smiling  children,  and  his  own  child,  now  with 
wings,  falls  upon  his  heart.  How  quiet  is  every  thing 
in  the  dimly  lit  portico  of  the  second  world,  a  misty 
rain  of  light  silvers  o'er  the  bright  fields  of  the  first 
heaven,  and  beads  of  light  instead  of  sparkling  dew 
hang  upon  flowers  and  summits, — the  blue  of  heaven 
is  darker  over  the  lily  plains,  all  the  melodies  in  the 
thinner  air  are  but  a  dispersed  echo, — only  night- 
flowers  exhale  their  scents,  and  dazzle  waving  around 
calmer  glances — here  the  waving  plains  rock  as  in  a 
cradle  the  crushed  souls,  and  the  lofty  billows  of  life 
fall  gliding  apart — then  the  heart  sleeps,  the  eye  be 
comes  dry,  the  \vish  becomes  silent.  Children  flut 
ter  like  the  hum  of  bees  around  the  heart  which  is 
sunk  in  earth,  and  is  still  palpitating,  and  the  dream 
after  death  represents  the  earthly  life,  as  a  dream  here 
represents  childhood  here,  magically,  soothingly, 
softly,  and  free  from  care. 

Eugenius  looked  from  the  moon  towards  the  earth, 
which  for  a  long  moon-day — equal  to  two  earth- 
weeks — floated  like  a  thin  white  cloud  across  the 
blue  sky  ;  but  he  did  not  recognize  his  old  mother 
land.  At  last  the  sun  set  to  the  moon,  and  our 
earth  rested,  large,  glimmering,  and  immovable,  on 
the  pure  horizon  of  Elysium,  scattering,  like  a  water- 


THE   MOON.  21 

wheel  upon  a  meadow,  the  flowing  beams  upon  the 
waving  Elysian  garden.  He  then  recognized  the 
earth,  upon  which  he  had  left  a  heart  so  troubled,  in 
a  breast  so  beloved  ;  and  his  soul,  which  reposed  in 
pleasure,  became  full  of  melancholy,  and  of  an  infi 
nite  longing  after  the  beloved  of  his  former  life,  who 
was  suffering  below.  "  Oh,  my  Kosamond  !  why 
dost  thou  not  leave  a  sphere,  where  nothing  more 
loves  thee  ?  "  And  he  cast  a  supplicating  look  at 
the  angel  of  rest,  and  said  :  "  Beloved  one,  take  me 
down  from  the  land  of  quiet,  and  lead  me  to  the 
faithful  soul,  that  I  may  see  her,  and  again  feel  pain, 
so  that  she  may  not  pine  alone." 

Then  his  heart  began  suddenly,  as  it  were, to  float 
without  any  bounds  ;  breezes  fluttered  around  him, 
as  though  they  raised  him  flying,  wafted  him  away 
as  they  swelled,  and  veiled  him  in  floods ;  he  sank 
through  the  red  evening  twilights  as  through  roses, 
and  through  the  night  as  through  bowers,  and 
through  a  damp  atmosphere  which  filled  his  eye  with 
drops.  Then  it  seemed  as  though  old  dreams  of 
childhood  had  returned — then  there  arose  a  complaint 
from  the  distance,  which  re-opened  all  his  closed 
wounds;  the  complaint,  as  it  drew  nearer,  became 
Rosamond's  voice — at  last  she  herself  was  before  him, 
unrecognizable,  alone,  without  solace,  without  a  tear, 
without  color. 

And  Rosamond  dreamed  upon  the  earth,  and  it 
was  to  her  as  though  the  sun  took  wings,  and  be- 


22  THE    TOKEN. 

came  an  angel.  This  angel,  she  dreamed,  drew  down 
towards  her  the  moon,  which  became  a  gentle  face. 
Beneath  this  face,  as  it  approached  her,  a  heart  at 
last  formed  itself.  It  was  Eugenius,  and  his  beloved 
arose  to  meet  him.  But  as  she  exclaimed,  with 
transport,  "Now  I  am  dead!" — the  two  dreams, 
both  hers  and  his,  vanished,  and  the  two  were  again 
severed. 

Eugenius  walked  above,  the  glimmering  earth 
still  stood  in  the  sky,  his  heart  was  oppressed,  and 
his  eye  beamed  with  a  tear  which  had  not  fallen  on 
the  moon.  Rosamond  waked  below,  and  a  large 
warm  dew-drop  hung  in  one  of  the  flowers  of  her 
bosom.  Then  did  the  last  mist  of  her  soul  shower 
down  in  a  light  rain  of  tears,  her  soul  became  light 
and  sun-clear,  and  her  eye  hung  gently  on  the  dawn 
ing  sky  ;  the  earth  was  indeed  strange  to  her,  but 
no  longer  hateful ;  and  her  hands  moved  as  though 
they  were  leading  those  who  had  died. 

The  angel  of  rest  looked  upon  the  moon,  and 
looked  upon  the  earth,  and  he  was  softened  by  the 
sighs  from  both.  On  the  morning-earth  he  perceiv 
ed  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  and  a  bereft  one ;  he  saw 
Rosamond  during  this  transient  night  sink  upon  the 
flowers  that  slept  in  the  darkness,  and  into  the  cold 
evening-dew  which  fell  upon  the  morning-dew,  and 
stretching  forth  her  hands  towards  the  shaded  heav 
en,  which  was  full  of  night-birds,  look  up  towards 
the  moon  with  inexpressible  longing,  as  it  floated 


THE   MOON. 

trembling  in  the  sun.  The  angel  looked  upon  the 
moon,  and  near  him  wept  the  departed  one,  who  saw 
the  earth  swimming  deep  below, — a  flood  of  shade 
fitted  into  a  ring  of  fire,  and  from  whom  the  mourn 
ing  form  that  dwelt  upon  it,  took  all  the  happiness 
of  heaven.  Then  was  the  heavenly  heart  of  the  an 
gel  of  peace  broken — he  seized  the  hand  of  Eugeni- 
us  and  that  of  his  child — drew  both  through  the 
second  world,  and  bore  them  down  to  the  dark 
earth.  Kosamond  saw  three  forms  wandering 
through  the  obscurity,  the  gleam  from  whom  reach 
ed  the  starry  heaven,  and  went  along  hovering  over 
them.  Her  beloved  and  her  child  flew  like  spring- 
days  to  her  heart,  an<^  said,  "  Oh,  thou  dear  one, 
come  with  us  ! "  Her  maternal  heart  broke  with 
maternal  love,  the  circulation  of  earth-blood  was 
stopped,  her  life  was  ended ;  and  happily,  happily  did 
she  stammer  forth  to  the  two  beloved  hearts,  "  Can 
I  not  then  die  ?  "  "  Thou  hast  died  already,"  said 
the  angel  of  the  three  fond  ones,  weeping  with  joy  : 
"  Yonder  thou  seest  the  sphere  of  earth,  whence 
thou  comest,  still  in  shade."  And  the  waves  of  joy 
closed  on  high  over  the  blessed  world,  and  all  the 
happy  and  all  children  looked  upon  our  sphere  which 

still  trembled  in  the  shade. 

#  #  #  $ 

Yea,  indeed,  is  it  in  shade  !  But  man  is  higher 
than  his  place.  He  looks  up  and  spreads  the  wings 
of  his  soul,  and  when  the  sixty  minutes,  which  we 


24  THE    TOKEN. 

call  sixty  years,  have  finished  striking,  he  then  lifts 
himself  up,  and  kindles  himself  as  he  rises,  and  the 
ashes  of  his  plumage  fall  back,  and  the  unveiled 
soul  rises  alone,  free  from  earth,  and  as  pure  as  a 
musical  tone.  But  here,  in  the  midst  of  dark  life, 
he  sees  the  mountains  of  the  future  world  standing 
in  the  morning  gold  of  a  sun  that  does  not  arise 
here.  Thus,  the  inhabitant  of  the  North  Pole  in 
the  long  night,  when  the  sun  has  ceased  to  rise,  dis 
cerns  at  twelve  o'clock,  a  dawn  gilding  the  highest 
mountains,  and  he  thinks  of  his  long  summer,  when 
it  will  set  no  more. 


THE  WOKLD. 

A  PLEASANT  world  is  this  of  ours, 
And  deem  not  that  my  words  are  vain, 
While  sunny  fields  and  shady  bowers, 
And  swelling  hill  and  flowery  plain, 
And  arching  skies  as  now  I  see, 
It  is  a  happy  world  to  me. 

You  say  that  men  are  hard  of  heart, 

And  cold  and  selfish,  and  'tis  true  ! 

Yet,  men  are  but  a  little  part 

Of  nature,  as  I  nature  view. 

And  must  she  lose  her  charms  for  me 

Because  of  man's  deformity  ? 

0  no  !  with  different  eye  I  see 
What  God  pronounced  was  very  good  ; 
And  'twould,  methinks,  but  ingrate  be 
To  turn  in  discontented  mood 
From  joys  he  cannot  fail  to  prove, 
Who  loveth  nature  as  I  love. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WEDDING. 

A  DANISH  STORY. 

BY   HENBY   8TEFFEN8. 

ON  the  north-west  of  Zealand  stretches  a  small 
fertile  peninsula,  studded  with  hamlets,  and  connect 
ed  with  the  mainland  by  a  narrow  stripe  of  waste 
ground.  Beyond  the  only  town  which  this  little 
peninsula  possesses,  the  land  runs  out  into  the  stormy 
Cattegat,  and  presents  an  awfully  wild  and  sterile 
appearance.  The  living  sands  have  here  obliterated 
every  trace  of  vegetation  ;  and  the  hurricanes  which 
blow  from  all  points  of  the  ocean  are  constantly  op 
erating  a  change  on  the  fluctuating  surface  of  the 
desert,  whose  hills  of  sand  rise  and  fall  with  a  motion 
as  incessant  as  that  of  the  waves  which  roar  around 
them.  In  travelling  through  this  country,  I  spent 
upwards  of  an  hour  in  this  district,  and  never  shall  I 
forget  the  impression  which  the  scene  made  upon  my 
mind. 

*  This  story  as  told  by  Steffens — a  Dane  by  birth,  but  now,  we 
believe,  a  professor  at  Breslau — forms  the  subject  of  two  German 
novels  and  a  Danish  poem. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS   WEDDING.  27 

While  riding  along  through  the  desolate  region, 
a  thunder-storm  rose  over  the  ocean  towards  the 
north, — the  waves  roared — the  clouds  scudded 
along  in  gloomy  masses  before  the  wind, — the  sky 
grew  every  instant  more  dark, "  menacing  earth  and 
sea," — the  sand  began  to  move  in  increasing  volumes 
under  my  horse's  feet, — a  whirlwind  arose  and  filled 
the  atmosphere  with  dust, — the  traces  of  the  path 
became  invisible, — while  air,  earth,  and  ocean  seemed 
mingled  and  blended  together,  every  object  being 
involved  in  a  cloud  of  dust  and  vapor,  I  could  not 
discern  the  slightest  trace  of  life  or  vegetation  around 
this  dismal  scene, — the  storm  roared  above  me, — the 
waves  of  the  sea  lashed  mournfully  against  the  shore, 
— the  thunder  rolled  in  the  distance, — and  scarcely 
could  the  lurid  lightning-flash  pierce  the  heavy  cloud 
of  sand  which  whirled  around  me.  My  danger 
became  evident  and  extreme  ;  but  a  sudden  shower 
of  rain  laid  the  sand  and  enabled  me  to  push  my 
way  to  the  little  town.  The  storm  I  had  just  encoun 
tered  was  a  horrid  mingling  of  all  elements.  An 
earthquake  has  been  described  as  the  sigh  which 
troubled  Nature  heaves  from  the  depth  of  her  bosom ; 
perhaps  not  more  fancifully  might  this  chaotic  tem 
pest  have  typified  the  confusion  of  a  wildly  distract 
ed  mind,  to  which  pleasure  and  even  hope  itself  have 
been  long  strangers, — the  cheerless  desert  of  the 
past  revealing  only  remorse  and  grief, — the  voice  of 
conscience  threatening  like  the  thunder,  and  her 


28  THE    TOKEN. 

awful  anticipations  casting  a  lurid  light  over  the 
gloomy  spirit, — till  at  last  the  long  sealed-up 
sources  of  tears  open  a  way  for  their  floods,  and  bury 
the  anguish  of  the  distracted  soul  beneath  their 
waves. 

In  this  desolate  country  there  existed  in  former 
times  a  village  called  Roerwig,  about  a  mile  distant 
from  the  shore.  The  moving  sands  have  now  buried 
the  village ;  and  the  descendants  of  its  inhabitants 
— mostly  shepherds  and  fishermen — have  removed 
their  cottages  close  to  the  shore.  A  single  solitary 
building,  situated  upon  a  hill,  yet  rears  its  head 
above  the  cheerless  shifting  desert.  This  building 
— and  the  village-church — was  the  scene  of  the  fol 
lowing  mysterious  transaction. 

In  an  early  year  of  the  last  century,  the  ven 
erable  cure"  of  Roerwig  was  one  night  seated  in  his 
study,  absorbed  in  pious  meditations.  His  house 
lay  at  the  extremity  of  the  village,  and  the  simple 
manners  of  the  inhabitants  were  so  little  tinged 
with  distrust,  that  bolts  and  locks  were  unknown 
amongst  them,  and  every  door  remained  open  and 
unguarded.  The  lamp  burned  gloomily, — and  the 
sullen  silence  of  the  midnight  hour  was  only  inter 
rupted  by  the  rushing  noise  of  the  sea,  on  whose 
waves  the  pale  moon  shone  reflected,  when  the  cure 
heard  the  door  below  opened,  and  the  next  moment 
the  sound  of  men's  steps  upon  the  stair.  He  was 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   WEDDING.  29 

anticipating  a  call  to  administer  the  last  offices  of 
religion  to  some  one  of  his  parishioners  on  the  point 
of  death,  when  two  foreigners  wrapped  up  in  white 
cloaks,  entered  the  room.  One  of  them  approaching 
addressed  him  with  politeness  :  "  Sir,  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  follow  us  instantly.  You  must 
perform  a  marriage-ceremony  ;  the  bride  and  bride 
groom  are  already  waiting  your  arrival  at  the  church. 
And  this  sum," — here  the  stranger  held  out  a  purse 
full  of  gold — "  will  sufficiently  recompense  you  for 
the  trouble  and  alarm  our  sudden  demand  has  given 
you." 

The  cure  stared  in  mute  terror  upon  the  strangers, 
who  seemed  to  carry  something  fearful,  almost 
ghastly  in  their  looks,  and  the  demand  was  repeated 
in  an  earnest  and  authoritative  tone.  When  the 
old  man  had  recovered  from  his  first  surprise,  he 
began  mildly  to  represent  that  his  duty  did  not 
allow  him  to  celebrate  so  solemn  a  rite  without  some 
knowledge  of  the  parties,  and  the  intervention  of 
those  formalities  required  by  law.  The  other 
stranger  hereupon  stepped  forward  in  a  menacing 
attitude  :  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  have  your  choice  ; 
follow  us  and  take  the  sum  we  now  offer  you, — or 
remain,  and  this  bullet  goes  through  your  head." 

Whilst  speaking,  he  levelled  his  pistol  at  the  fore 
head  of  the  venerable  man,  and  coolly  waited  his 
answer ;  whereupon  the  cure  rose,  dressed  himself 
and  informed  his  visitants — who  had  hitherto  spoken 


30  THE    TOKEN. 

Danish,  but  with  a   foreign   accent — that   he   was 
ready  to  accompany  them. 

The  mysterious  strangers  now  proceeded  silently 
through  the  village,  followed  by  the  clergyman.  It 
was  a  dark  autumn  night,  the  moon  having  already 
set ;  but  when  they  emerged  from  the  village,  the 
old  man  perceived  with  terror  and  astonishment 
that  the  distant  church  was  all  illuminated.  Mean 
while  his  companions  wrapped  up  in  their  white 
cloaks,  strode  hastily  on  before  him  through  the 
barren  sandy  plain.  On  reaching  the  church  they 
bound  up  his  eyes  ;  he  then  heard  a  side-door  open 
with  a  well-known  creaking  noise,  and  felt  himself 
violently  pushed  into  a  crowd  of  people,  whose  mur 
muring  he  heard  all  around  him,  while  close  beside 
him  some  persons  carried  on  a  conversation  in  a  lan 
guage  quite  unknown  to  him,  but  which  he  thought 
was  Russian.  As  he  stood  helpless  and  blindfolded, 
he  felt  himself  seized  upon  by  a  man's  hand,  and 
drawn  violently  through  the  crowd.  At  last  the 
bandage  was  removed  from  his  eyes,  and  he  found 
himself  standing  with  one  of  the  two  strangers  before 
the  altar.  A  row  of  large  tapers,  in  magnificent 
silver  candlesticks,  adorned  the  altar,  and  the  church 
itself  was  splendidly  lighted  up  by  a  profusion  of 
candles.  The  deepest  silence  now  reigned  through 
out  the  whole  building,  though  the  side-passages  and 
all  the  seats  were  crowded  to  excess  ;  but  the  middle 
passage  was  quite  clear,  and  he  perceived  in  it  a 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  WEDDING.  31 

newly  dug  grave,  with  the  stone  which  covered  it 
leaning  against  a  bench.  Around  him  were  only 
male  figures,  but  on  one  of  the  distant  benches  he 
thought  he  perceived  a  female  form.  The  terrible 
silence  lasted  for  some  minutes,  during  which  not  a 
motion  could  be  detected  in  the  vast  assembly. 
Thus  when  the  mind  is  bent  on  deeds  of  darkness, 
a  silent  gloomy  brooding  of  soul  often  precedes  the 
commission  of  the  horrid  action. 

At  last  a  man,  whose  magnificent  dress  distin 
guished  him  from  all  the  rest  and  bespoke  his  elevated 
rank,  rose  and  walked  hastily  up  to  the  altar  ;  as  he 
passed  along,  his  steps  resounded  through  the  build 
ing,  and  every  eye  was  turned  upon  him, — he  ap 
peared  to  be  of  middle  stature,  with  broad  shoulders 
and   strong   limbs, — his  gait  was  commanding,  his 
complexion  of  a  yellowish  brown,  and  his  hair  raven 
black, — his  features  were  severe,  and  his  lips  com 
pressed  as  if  in  wrath, — a  bold  aquiline  nose  height 
ened  the  haughty  appearance  of   his  countenance, 
and  dark  shaggy  brows  lowered  over  his  fiery  eyes. 
He  wore  a  green  coat,  with  broad  gold  braids,  and  a 
brilliant  star.     The  bride,  who  also  approached,  and 
kneeled  beside  him  at  the  altar,  was  magnificently 
dressed.     A    sky  blue    robe,  richly  trimmed  with 
silver,  enveloped  her  slender  limbs,  and  floated  in 
large  folds  over  her  graceful  form, — a  diadem  spark 
ling  with   diamonds   adorned    her   fair   hair, — the 
utmost  loveliness  and  beauty  might    be  traced  in 


32  THE    TOKEN. 

her  features,  although  despair  now  expressed  itself  in 
them, — her  cheeks  were  pale  as  those  of  a  corpse, — 
her  features  unanimated, — her  lips  were  blanched, — 
her  eyes  dimmed, — and  her  arms  hung  motionless 
at  her  side  as  she  kneeled  before  the  altar ;  terror 
seemed  to  have  wrapped  her  consciousness  as  well 
as  her  vital  powers  in  deep  lethargy. 

The  cure  now  discovered  near  him  an  old  ugly 
hag,  in  a  party-colored  dress,  with  a  blood-red 
turban  upon  her  head,  who  stood  gazing  with  an 
expression  of  malignant  fury  on  the  kneeling  bride ; 
and  behind  the  bridegroom,  he  noticed  a  man  of 
gigantic  size  and  a  gloomy  appearance,  whose  eyes 
were  fixed  immovably  on  the  ground. 

Horror-struck  by  the  scene  before  him,  the  priest 
stood  mute  for  some  time,  till  a  thrilling  look  from 
the  bridegroom  reminded  him  of  the  ceremony  he 
had  corne  thither  to  perform.  But  the  uncertainty 
whether  the  couple  he  was  now  about  to  marry  under 
stood  his  language  afforded  him  a  fresh  source  of  un 
easiness.  He  ventured,  however,  to  ask  the  bride 
groom  for  his  name  and  that  of  his  bride ;  "  Neander 
and  Feodora,"  was  the  answer  returned  in  a  rough 
voice. 

The  priest  now  began  to  read  the  ritual  in 
faltering  accents,  frequently  stopping  to  repeat  the 
words,  without  however  either  the  bride  or  bride 
groom  appearing  to  observe  his  confusion,  which  con 
firmed  him  in  the  conjecture  that  his  language  was 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  WEDDING.  33 

almost  unknown  to  either  of  them.  On  putting  the 
question,  "  Neander,  wilt  thou  have  this  woman  for 
thy  wedded  wife  ?  "  he  doubted  whether  he  should 
receive  any  answer  ;  but  to  his  astonishment,  the 
bridegroom  answered  in  the  affirmative  with  a  loud 
and  almost  screaming  voice,  which  rung  throughout 
the  whole  church,  while  deep  sighs  were  heard  from 
every  quarter  of  the  building,  and  a  silent  quivering, 
like  the  reflection  of  distant  lightning,  threw  a 
transitory  motion  over  the  death-pale  features  of  the 
bride.  When  the  priest  turned  to  her  with  the 
interrogatory  :  "  Feodora,  wilt  thou  have  this  man 
for  thy  wedded  husband  ?  "  the  lifeless  form  before 
him  seemed  to  awake, — a  deep  convulsive  throb 
of  terror  trembled  on  her  cheeks, — her  pale  lips 
quivered, — a  passing  gleam  of  fire  shone  in  her  eye, 
— her  breast  heaved, — a  violent  gush  of  tears  flooded 
the  brilliance  of  her  eyes,  and  the  "  yes  "  was  pronoun 
ced  like  the  scream  of  anguish  uttered  by  a  dying 
person,  and  seemed  to  find  a  deep  echo  in  the  sounds 
of  grief  which  burst  from  the  surrounding  multitude. 
The  bride  then  sank  into  the  arms  of  the  horrid  old 
hag,  and  after  some  minutes  had  passed  in  awful 
silence,  the  pale,  corpse-like  female  kneeled  again, 
as  if  in  a  deep  trance,  and  the  ceremony  was  finished. 
The  bridegroom  now  rose  and  led  away  the  trem 
bling  bride,  followed  by  the  tall  man  and  the  old 
woman  ;  the  two  strangers  then  appeared  again,  and 
having  bound  the  priest's  eyes,  drew  him  with  vio- 
3 


34:  THE    TOKEN. 

lence  through  the  crowd,  and  pushed  him  out  at  the 
door,  which  they  bolted  from  within. 

For  some  minutes  the  old  man  stood  endeavor 
ing  to  recollect  himself,  and  uncertain  whether  the 
horrid  scene,  with  all  its  ghastly  attendant  circum 
stances,  might  not  have  been  a  dream  ;  but  when  he 
had  torn  the  bandage  from  his  eyes,  and  saw  the 
illuminated  church  before  him,  and  heard  the  mur 
muring  of  the  crowd,  he  was  forced  to  believe  its 
reality.  To  learn  the  issue,  he  hid  himself  in  a 
corner  of  the  building,  and  while  listening  there 
he  heard  the  murmuring  within  grow  louder  and 
louder, — then  it  seemed  as  if  a  fierce  altercation 
arose,  in  which  he  thought  he  could  recognise  the 
rough  voice  of  the  bridegroom  commanding  silence, 
— a  long  pause  followed, — a  shot  fell, — the  shriek  o1 
a  female  voice  was  heard,  which  was  succeeded  bj 
another  pause, — then  followed  a  sound  of  pickaxes 
which  lasted  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  after  whicl 
the  candles  were  extinguished,  the  door  was  flunc 
open,  and  a  multitude  of  persons  rushed  out  of  th< 
church,  and  ran  towards  the  sea. 

The  old  priest  now  arose  from  his  hiding-place 
and  hastened  back  to  the  village,  where  he  awok< 
his  neighbors  and  friends,  and  related  to  them  his  in 
credible  and  marvellous  adventure  ;  but  everything 
which  had  hitherto  fallen  out  amongst  these  simple 
people,  had  been  so  calm  and  tranquil, — so  mucl 
measured  by  the  laws  of  daily  routine,  that  they  were 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  WEDDING.  35 

seized  with  a  very  different  alarm  :  they  believed 
that  some  unfortunate  accident  had  deranged  the  in 
tellects  of  their  beloved  pastor,  and  it  was  not  with 
out  difficulty  that  he  prevailed  on  some  of  them  to 
follow  him  to  the  church,  provided  with  picks  and 
spades. 

Meanwhile  the  morning  had  dawned,  the  sun 
arose,  and  when  the  priest  and  his  companions  as 
cended  the  hill  towards  the  church,  they  saw  a  man- 
of-war  standing  off  from  the  shore  under  full  sail  to 
wards  the  north.  So  surprising  a  sight  in  this  re 
mote  district,  made  his  companions  already  hesitate 
to  reject  his  story  as  improbable,  and  still  more  were 
they  inclined  to  listen  to  him  when  they  saw  that  the 
side-door  of  the  church  had  been  violently  burst  open. 
They  entered,  full  of  expectation,  and  the  priest 
showed  them  the  grave  which  he  had  seen  opened  in 
the  night-time  ;  it  was  evident  that  the  stone  had 
been  lifted  up  and  replaced  again.  They,  therefore, 
put  their  implements  in  motion,  and  soon  came  to  a 
new  and  richly  adorned  coffin,  in  which  lay  the  mur 
dered  bride, — a  bullet  had  pierced  her  breast  right 
to  the  heart, — the  magnificent  diadem  which  she 
had  worn  at  the  altar  no  longer  adorned  her  brows, 
but  the  distracted  expression  of  deep  grief  had  van 
ished  from  her  countenance,  and  a  heavenly  calm 
seemed  spread  over  her  features.  The  old  man 
threw  himself  down  on  his  knees  near  the  coffin,  and 
wept  and  prayed  aloud  for  the  soul  of  the  dead, 


36  THE   TOKEN. 

while    mute   astonishment     and   horror    seized  his 
companions. 


The  clergyman  found  himself  obliged  to  make  this 
event  instantly  known,  with  all  its  circumstances,  to 
his  superior,  the  bishop  of  Zealand  ;  meanwhile,  un 
til  he  got  further  instructions  from  Copenhagen,  he 
bound  all  his  friends  to  secrecy  by  an  oath.  Shortly 
afterwards  a  person  of  high  rank  suddenly  arrived 
from  the  capital ;  he  inquired  into  alJ  the  circum 
stances,  visited  the  grave,  commended  the  silence 
which  had  been  hitherto  observed,  and  stated  that 
the  whole  event  must  remain  for  ever  a  secret,  threat 
ening  at  the  same  time  with  a  severe  punishment 
any  person  who  should  dare  to  speak  of  it. 

After  the  death  of  the  priest,  a  writing  was  found 
in  the  parochial  register  narrating  this  event.  Some 
believed  that  it  might  have  some  secret  connection 
with  the  violent  political  changes  which  occurred  in 
Kussia  after  the  death  of  Catherine  and  Peter  I.; 
but  to  resolve  the  deep  riddle  of  this  mysterious 
affair  will  ever  be  a  difficult,  if  not  impossible  task. 


BANNOCK  BUKN. 

ROBERT    BRUCE'S   ADDRESS   TO   HIS   ARMY. 

SCOTS,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots,  wham  Bruce  has  aften  led  ; 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 
Or  to  glorious  victorie. 

Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour ; 
See  the  front  of  battle  lower ; 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power — 
Edward  !  chains  !  and  slaverie  ! 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor  knave  ? 
Wha  can  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave  ? 

Traitor !  coward  !  turn  and  flee  ! 

Wha  for  Scotland's  king  and  law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw, 
Freeman  stand,  or  freeman  fa'  ? 
Caledonian  !  on  wi'  me  ! 


38  THE  TOKEN. 

By  oppression's  woes  and  pains  ! 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains  ! 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 

But  they  shall  be — shall  be  free 

Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 

Forward  !  let  us  do;  or  die  ! 


THE  KLAUSENBURa. 

BY   LUDWIG   TIECK. 

[The  following  Gespenster  Geschichte,  or  Ghost  Story,  as  Tieck 
himself  has  called  it,  is  related  to  a  circle  of  friends  by  a  gentleman, 
Baron  Blamberg,  who  was  a  friend  of  the  unfortunate  subject  of  the 
story.  The  ruins  of  the  Klausenburg  are,  according  to  the  words 
of  the  narrator,  near  the  house  where  they  are  assembled.  The 
story,  in  the  original,  is  often  interrupted  by  the  company,  but 
their  conversation  has  no  connection  with  it,  and  it  has,  there 
fore,  been  omitted  here.] 

IT  is  about  fifty  years  since,  that  a  rich  family 
lived  among  the  mountains  a  short  distance  off,  in 
a  castle,  of  which  only  the  ruins  are  now  to  be  seen, 
sience  it  was  partly  destroyed  by  thunder  and  light 
ning,  and  the  remainder  was  demolished  in  war.  It 
is  now  only  occasionally  visited  by  huntsmen  and 
travellers  who,  have  lost  their  way,  and  it  is  called 
the  ruins  of  the  Klausenburg.  Proceeding  up  the 
solitary  footpath  through  the  pine  wood,  and  then 
climbing  the  pathless  crag,  you  stand  facing  its  en 
trance,  which  is  cut  out  of  the  living  rock,  and  secur 
ed  by  an  ancient  and  strongly  barred  gate.  On  the 
outside  is  an  iron  rod  with  a  handle  apparently  com- 


40  THE    TOKEN. 

municating  with  a  bell  on  the  inside.  Having  once 
wandered  there  while  hunting,  I  pulled  this  handle, 
but  received  no  answer  to  my  summons  from  within. 
As  this  spot  can  only  be  approached  with  much 
difficulty,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  climb  the 
chasms  and  rocks  on  the  other  side,  there  are  many 
legends  and  tales  current  among  the  vulgar  about 
this  singular  Klausenburg,  the  remains  of  which 
present  an  almost  spectral  appearance. 

Among  other  stories,  it  is  reported  that  more 
than  a  century  ago,  there  resided  within  its  walls  a 
very  wealthy,  benevolent,  and  industrious  man,  who 
was  much  beloved  by  his  friends  and  tenants.  He 
had  early  in  life  retired  from  the  state  service,  to 
devote  himself  to  the  management  of  his  estates,  of 
which  he  possessed  many,  including  mines,  and  glass 
and  iron  foundries,  which  he  was  able  to  work  to 
great  advantage,  having  abundant  fuel  from  his  ex 
tensive  forests.  Although  beloved  by  his  tenants, 
he  was  yet  hated  and  envied  by  many  of  his  equals, 
the  more  reasonable  of  whom  disliked  him  because 
he  avoided  them,  and  they  readily  perceived  that  he 
despised  them  for  their  want  of  industry  ;  while 
the  more  foolish  believed,  and  even  openly  declared, 
that  Count  Moritz  was  in  league  with  Satan,  and 
was  therefore  successful  beyond  expectation  in  all  he 
undertook. 

However  absurd  the  report,  it  was  calculated  at 
this  early  period  to  injure  the  character  of  this  per- 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  41 

severing  man  ;  as  it  was  not  many  years  after  the 
time  when  people  were  burnt  at  the  stake  for  witch 
craft,  and  for  being  in  league  with  the  evil  one. 
Hence  it  was  that  the  count  in  disgust  retired  from 
the  world  to  the  solitary  castle  of  Klausenburg,  and 
was  only  happy  when  conversing  on  his  affairs  with 
intelligent  miners,  machine  makers,  and  learned  men. 
Knowing  the  distrust  with  which  he  was  looked  upon 
by  the  old  priests  who  held  the  livings  in  his  different 
parishes,  he  but  rarely  appeared  at  church,  a  circum 
stance  which  but  little  contributed  to  raise  his  reputa 
tion  in  the  neighborhood. 

It  happened  once  that  a  band  of  gipsies,  who 
at  that  time  roved  about  in  Germany  with  little 
molestation,  came  to  these  parts.  The  nobles  of 
the  country,  as  well  as  the  government,  were  un 
decided  and  dilatory  in  checking  this  nuisance, 
and  the  boundaries  of  several  states  meeting  here, 
the  tribe  could  carry  on  their  depredations  with  im 
punity,  and  even  unnoticed.  Where  they  did  not 
receive  any  thing,  they  robbed  ;  where  they  were 
resisted,  they  came  at  night  and  burnt  the  barns  ; 
and  in  this  manner  the  me  on  one  occasion  rapidly 
spreading,  two  villages  were  burnt  to  the  ground. 
Count  Moritz  was  induced  by  this  circumstance  to 
unite  with  some  resolute  neighbors,  and  to  pursue 
and  punish,  on  his  own  authority,  the  lawless  tribe. 
Imprisonment,  scourging,  flogging,  and  starvation, 
were  awarded  by  him  without  reference  to  any  au- 
3* 


42  THE    TOKEN. 

thority,  and  only  some  who  were  convicted  of  arson 
were  sent  to  the  town  for  what  was  called  the  gipsy 
trial,  and  were  then  legally  condemned  to  suffer 
capital  punishment. 

The  count,  considering  himself  the  benefactor  of 
his  country,  could  not  help  feeling  mortified  when 
his  enviers  and  calumniators  used  this  very  circum 
stance  to  accuse  him  of  the  blackest  crimes,  and 
the  most  atrocious  injustice.  To  this  ingratitude  he 
opposed  nothing  but  calm  indignation,  and  a  contempt 
which  was  perhaps  too  magnanimous  ;  for  if  a  noble 
man  always  preserves  silence,  calumny  and  falsehood 
will  be  more  readily  believed  by  the  foolish  and  those 
who  have  no  character  to  lose.  If  he  could  not  pre 
vail  on  himself  to  meet  his  opponents  and  to  relate 
the  circumstance  in  detail,  he  felt  himself  quite  dis 
armed  on  discovering  how  much  he  was  misunder 
stood  in  his  family,  and  by  the  being  who  was  near 
est  to  his  heart.  He  had  married  late  in  life,  and 
his  wife  having  a  few  days  before  presented  him  with 
a  son,  was  still  confined  to  her  room.  In  her  pre 
sent  weak  state  he  could  not  dispute  or  urge  writh 
any  force  the  justice  of  his  proceedings,  when  she 
reproached  him  with  the  cruelty  he  had  exercised 
towards  these  poor  innocent  men,  who  rather  deserved 
his  compassion  than  such  hard  persecution.  When 
on  leaving  her  chamber  some  old  cousins  told  him  the 
same  thing  in  plainer  terms,  he  could  no  longer  sup 
press  his  rage  ;  and  his  replies  were  so  wrathful,  his 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG.  43 

curses  so  vehement,  the  gestures  of  the  irritated  man  so 
superhuman,  that  the  old  prattling  women  lost  their 
composure  and  almost  swooned.  To  prevent  his  sick 
wife  from  learning  all  this,  he  immediately  sent  them 
by  main  force  to  another  of  his  estates,  and  then  rode 
to  a  solitary  part  of  the  mountains,  partly  to  divert 
his  thoughts  and  strengthen  himself  by  the  sublime 
aspect  of  nature,  and  partly  to  resume  the  pursuit 
of  the  gipsies.  But  what  was  his  astonishment  when 
he  learned  from  his  ranger  that  those  noblemen  who 
in  conjunction  with  him,  had  undertaken  the  war 
against  these  vagabonds,  had  dispersed  and  retired  to 
their  seats  without  giving  him  notice ! 

Without  being  disconcerted  at  this,  he  again 
succeeded  in  apprehending  some  of  them  who  were 
guilty  of  heavy  crimes,  and  ordered  them  to  be 
bound  and  thrown  into  a  secure  dungeon.  When 
after  having  dismissed  his  attendants,  he  rode 
thoughtfully  back  alone  towards  the  Klausenburg, 
the  aged  castellan  on  his  arriving  at  the  gate  gave 
him  a  packet  which  had  been  sent  by  the  govern 
ment.  This  he  opened  with  anticipating  vexation, 
and  was  so  surprised  by  its  contents  that  his  anger 
rose,  and  he  became  infuriated  almost  to  madness. 
The  purport  of  the  letters  it  contained  was  no  less 
than  a  penal  accusation  for  murder  and  high  treason 
in  consequence  of  the  count's  having,  on  his  own  au 
thority,  and  as  leader  of  an  armed  troop,  seditiously 
opposed  the  government.  Almost  senseless,  he. 


44  THE    TOKEN. 

dropped  these  preposterous  letters,  and  then,  recov 
ering  by  a  sudden  effort,  went  to  his  apartment  to 
read  the  impeachment  more  calmly,  and  to  consider 
how  he  could  defend  himself.  Passing  the  countess's 
chamber,  and  hearing  strange  voices  within,  he  hasti 
ly  opened  the  door,  and  beheld — what  he  certainly 
did  not  expect — two  dirty  old  gipsies  dressed  in  rags, 
sitting  by  the  bedside  of  the  invalid,  and  foretell 
ing  her  fate,  while  they  frightfully  distorted  their 
hideous  countenances.  As  might  be  expected,  the 
countess  was  horror-struck  at  beholding  her  husband 
enter,  for  what  he  now  did  was  truly  barbarous. 
In  his  fury  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  did,  and  seiz 
ing  the  old  prophetesses  by  their  long  gray  hair,  he 
dragged  them  out  of  the  room  and  threw  them  down 
the  staircase.  He  then  commanded  the  servants, 
who  came  crowding  around,  to  secure  them  to  a 
stone  pillar  in  the  yard,  to  bare  their  backs,  and 
chastise  them  with  whips  as  long  as  the  strength,  of 
the  ministers  of  his  cruelty  would  hold  out.  His 
orders  were  executed. 

Having  locked  himself  in  his  room,  he  was  hor 
rified,  on  becoming  calmer,  as  he  reflected  on  the 
barbarities  he  had  committed.  From  these  thoughts 
he  was  aroused  by  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door.  He 
opened  it,  and  a  servant  in  evident  terror  entered, 
saying,  "  Oh  !  gracious  count,  I  was  afraid  you 
were  ill,  or  perhaps  dead,  for  I  have  been  knocking 
for  a  long  time,  without  receiving  any  answer  from 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  4o 

your  lordship."  "  What  do  you  want  ?  "  "  The 
eldest  of  these  hideous  witches/'  replied  the  servant, 
"insists  on  speaking  to  you  for  a  minute  before  she 
leaves  the  castle.  She  will  not  be  refused,  and  the 
most  severe  threats  and  curses  avail  nothing  with 
the  old  woman/'  The  count  ordered  the  ill-used  wo 
man  to  be  led  to  his  room.  The  appearance  of  the 
poor  creature  was  frightful,  and  the  count  himself 
started  back  with  horror,  when  she  presented  herself 
covered  with  blood,  her  face  and  arms  lacerated,  and 
a  deep  wound  in  her  head,  which  was  still  uncover 
ed.  u  I  thank  you,"  she  said,  "  kind  brother,  for  the 
Christian  kindness  that  you  have  shown  me  in  your 
palace.  You  are,  indeed,  a  virtuous  man,  a  persecu 
tor  of  vice,  an  impartial  judge,  and  a  punisher  of 
crimes  ;  and  I  suppose  you  would  call  yourself  an 
avenging  angel  in  the  service  of  your  God.  Do  you 
know  then,  tender-hearted  man,  why  we  were  sitting 
by  the  bedside  of  your  wife  ?  We  had,  indeed,  told 
her  fortune,  but  the  real  object  of  our  visit  was  to 
speak  to  you,  and  you  were  not  in  your  hospitable 
house.  It  was  our  wish  to  separate  from  the  gang, 
and  seek  a  humble  and  honest  living.  We  know 
the  haunt  where  the  leader  conceals  himself,  that 
notorious  incendiary  whom  you  have  so  long  sought 
in  vain,  and  intended  to  deliver  him  into  your 
hands ;  but  you  are  worse  than  the  most  atrocious 
of  our  gang,  and  as  you  have  shown  us  to-day  so 
much  kindness,  a  curse  for  it  shall  light  upon  you, 


46  THE    TOKEN. 

your  family  and  your  offspring,  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation." 

The  count,  who  had  now  repented  of  his  hasty 
wrath,  wished  to  appease  the  awful  woman,  by 
speaking  kindly  to  her,  and  offering  her,  by  way  of 
reconciliation,  his  purse  well  filled  with  gold.  She 
cast  an  evil,  though  covetous  look  at  the  gold,  and, 
grinding  her  teeth,  threw  the  purse  at  the  count's 
feet.  "  That  mammon,"  she  cried,  {e  would  have 
made  me  and  my  poor  sister  happy,  but  after  the 
meal  you  have  given  us,  I  would  rather  gnaw  the 
bark  of  trees  than  receive  the  wealth  from  your  ac 
cursed  hands."  Various  and  many  were  the  curses 
she  continued  heaping  on  him,  and  the  torments  and 
misfortunes  she  denounced  against  him  and  his 
house.  When  she  had  finished,  she  tottered  down 
the  stone  staircase,  all  the  servants  fleeing  from  her 
as  from  a  spectre. 

From  this  moment  the  count  was  a  changed 
man.  His  energies  were  crushed.  He  lived  as  in  a 
dream,  having  no  wish,  and  being  incapable  of  form 
ing  a  single  resolution.  Those  around  him  could 
not  learn  whether  he  was  deeply  shocked  by  the 
death  of  his  consort,  who  died  the  night  after  that 
fatal  day.  Since  that  time  he  was  scarcely  ever 
heard  to  speak  or  to  utter  a  sound,  sigh,  or  complaint. 
He  no  longer  concerned  himself  about  any  thing,  and 
seemed  perfectly  indifferent  when  the  government 
confiscated  his  largest  estate  to  punish  him  as  a  re 
bel  and  violator  of  the  laws.  In  his  present  state 


~7 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG.  47 

of  mind,  he  abandoned  himself  to  the  guidance  of 
those  very  priests  whom  previously  he  had  so  point 
edly  avoided  ;  he  frequented  the  church  often,  and 
was  fervent  in  his  devotions.  He  never  looked 
around  when  people  behind  him  called  out,  "  There 
sneaks  the  old  sinner,the  traitor,  the  murderer  and  re 
bel,  back  again  into  God's  house."  Now  like  wise  some 
relatives  profited  by  his  listlessness,  so  far  as  to  de 
prive  him  by  a  lawsuit  of  another  large  estate,  and 
there  was  every  appearance  that  of  all  the  large  pos 
sessions  of  his  ancestors,  nothing  would  be  left  for 
his  only  heir,  a  beautiful  boy,  had  not  a  prudent 
guardian  of  the  child  done  all  in  his  power  for  him. 
From  the  unconcern  of  his  father,  the  young  count 
became  daily  more  impoverished,  leaving  to  his  off 
spring  but  a  small  portion  of  the  large  property  to 
which  he  had  succeeded  ;  but,  notwithstanding  these 
misfortunes,  and  also  the  breaking  out  of  war,  the 
next  proprietor  of  the  Klausenburg,  and  his  family, 
maintained  their  rank,  and  were  respected  in  the 
neighborhood.  By  his  industry,  his  success,  and 
his  marriage  with  a  wealthy  lady,  he  partly  retriev 
ed  his  fortune,  and  succeeded  in  his  endeavors  to  re 
vive  and  maintain  the  former  splendor  of  his  castle 
for  some  fifty  or  sixty  years,  so  that  his  friends  and 
relatives  resorted  to  it  as  formerly,  with  delight,  and 
he,  at  his  death,  left  to  his  only  son  his  remaining 
estates  in  good  condition,  besides  large  sums  of 
money.  Thus  the  curse  of  the  gipsies  appeared  to- 


48  THE    TOKEN. 

tally  removed,  the  count  and  his  son  having  com 
pletely  forgotten  former  events,  or  having,  perhaps, 
never  heard  of  the  curse. 

I  was  a  spirited  boy  when  I  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Francis,  the  last  heir  of  the  Klausenburg. 
This  Francis,  who  was  about  a  year  my  senior,  was 
cheerful,  amiable,  and  handsome,  and  the  pride  of 
his  father,  the  persevering  man  who  had  partly  re 
stored  the  splendor  of  his  ancestors.  My  playmate 
grew  up  to  be,  not  merely  the  delight  of  his  father, 
but  of  all  around.  He  was  manly,  witty,  and  en 
gaging,  an  accomplished  dancer,  and  expert  horse 
man,  and  in  fencing,  had  not  his  equal.  After 
being  presented  at  court,  he  soon  gained  the  prince's 
favor,  by  his  natural  vivacity,  and  in  a  few  years 
was  raised  to  the  office  of  counsellor.  Few  men 
on  earth  had  fairer  prospects  of  a  happy  life.  All 
mothers  and  aunts  in  the  neighborhood  saw,  and 
hoped  to  find  in  him,  the  future  husband  of  their 
daughters  and  nieces,  and  at  the  assemblies  in  the 
capital  he  was  the  adored  and  chosen  hero  of  the 
ladies,  as  he  was  the  object  of  envy  and  persecution 
among  the  young  fashionables.  No  one  could  con 
ceive  why  he  so  long  deferred  his  choice,  and,  for  a 
longtime,  people  would  not  credit  the  rumors  that 
were  circulated,  that  he  had  formed  an  engagement 
with  the  young  princess.  It  was  confidently  whis 
pered  that  the  lovers  waited  only  for  some  favorable 
chance,  or  occurrence,  to  acknowledge  publicly  their 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  49 

mutual  affection  and  wishes.  However,  nothing  of 
the  kind  happened,  and  years  passed,  and  with  them 
faded  the  rumors,  and  various  interpretations  of 
sage  politicians. 

Suddenly,  when  the  affair  seemed  forgotten,  my 
youthful  friend  was  banished  the  court  and  capital 
in  disgrace.  All  his  former  friends  forsook  him,  and 
what  was  still  worse,  an  intrigue,  countenanced  by 
the  government,  involved  him  in  a  dangerous  lawsuit, 
which  threatened  the  loss  of  his  fortune.  Thus  then 
this  courted,  admired,  and  universally  caressed  Fran 
cis,  saw  himself  in  the  very  worst  position,  and  was 
obliged  to  confess  that  his  career  was  closed,  and 
that  all  his  splendid  prospects  were  darkened  for 
ever. 

About  this  time  I  saw  him  again  ;  he  bore  his 
misfortune  manfully.  He  was  still  as  youthful  and 
handsome  as  ever,  and  the  serenity  of  his  temper 
had  suffered  but  little.  We  were  travelling  in  this 
neighborhood,  and  the  Klausenburg  having  gone  to 
ruin,  he  built  a  pleasant  house  not  far  distant,  on 
the  slope  of  a  hill,  from  whence  he  enjoyed  a  beau 
tiful  prospect. 

He  avoided  speaking  of  former  circumstances, 
but  one  evening  he  was  deeply  affected  by  a  letter 
announcing  the  decease  of  the  young  princess,  who 
had  died  of  a  broken  heart  ;  or,  as  was  afterwards 
said,  had  voluntarily  sought  death,  because  she 


50  THE    TOKEN. 

could  no  longer  bear  the  burden  of  her  embittered 
life. 

It  was  evident  to  me  that  a  deep-seated  melan 
choly  had  taken  possession  of  my  friend,  and  often 
showed  itself ;  his  mind,  however,  was  not  so  affect 
ed  as  to  display  any  symptoms  of  weariness  of  life, 
which  made  me  hope  that  his  misfortune,  and  the 
evil  fate  that  had  attended  him,  would  serve  to 
purify  his  character,  and  give  him  that  genuine 
deportment  which  is  essential  even  to  those  who  are 
not  tried  by  calamity,  and  much  more  to  those  who 
have  to  pass  through  heavy  trials. 

There  lived  in  the  neighborhood,  about  that 
time,  a  wild  old  woman,  who  was  half  crazy,  and 
who  went  begging  from  village  to  village. 

The  higher  class  called  her  jokingly,  the  Sibyl, 
the  common  people  did  not  hesitate  to  call  her  a 
witch.  The  place  of  her  residence  was  not  exactly 
known  ;  probably  she  had  no  certain  place  of  resort, 
as  she  was  constantly  seen  on  the  high-roads,  and 
roaming  in  every  direction  in  the  country.  Some 
old  rangers  maintained  that  she  was  a  descendant 
of  that  notorious  gang  of  gipsies  whom  Count  Mo- 
ritz  many  years  before  had  persecuted  and  dispersed. 

Walking  one  day  in  a  beautiful  beech-wood,  and 
engaged  in  conversation,  which  made  us  forget  the 
world  without,  we  suddenly  saw,  at  a  turn  of  the 
footpath,  the  old  hideous  Sibyl  before  us.  Being 
both  in  a  cheerful  mood,  we  were  rather  astonished, 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  51 

but  in  no  way  startled.  Having  dismissed  the  im 
pudent  beggar  by  giving  her  some  money,  she  hasti 
ly  returned,  saying  :  "  Will  not  you  have  your  for 
tunes  told  for  what  you  have  given  to  me  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  something  good  that  you  can  tell  me, 
you  may  earn  a  few  more  pence." 

I  held  out  to  her  my  hand,  at  which  she  looked 
very  carefully,  and  then  said,  scornfully  :  "  My  good 
sir,  you  have  a  miserable  hand,  which  would  puzzle 
even  the  best  fortune-teller.  Such  a  middling  per 
son,  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other,  as  you,  I  have 
never  seen  in  all  my  life  :  you  are  neither  wise  nor 
stupid,  neither  bad  nor  good,  neither  fortunate  nor 
unfortunate  ;  without  passions,  mind,  virtue,  or  vice  ; 
you  are  what  I  call  a  real  A.  B.  C.  scholar  of  Heav 
en's  blockheads,  and  you  will  not  in  all  your  life 
have  the  slight  merit  of  ever  perceiving  your  own  in 
significance.  From  your  paltry  hand  and  unmean 
ing  countenance  nothing  at  all  can  be  prophesied  ;  a 
dry  fungus,  without  it  is  first  prepared  and  macera 
ted,  cannot  even  receive  a  spark.  Therefore,  Jack 
Mean-nothing,  your  dull  nature  will  never  live  to 
see  any  thing  worth  telling." 

My  friend  Francis  did  not  laugh  at  the  old  wo 
man's  opinion  and  description  of  my  character,  but 
being  attached  to  me,  his  anger  rose,  and  he  repro 
ved  her  in  strong  terms.  She  listened  very  calmly 
to  what  he  said,  and  then  replied  :  "  Why  are  you 
so  angry  ?  If  you  will  not  give  me  something  more 


52  THE    TOKEN. 

for  my  trouble  and  wisdom,  let  me  go  quietly.  No 
doubt  men  do  not  like  to  have  their  innermost  heart 
exposed  to  the  daylight.  Is  it  my  fault  that  there 
is  nothing  better  in  your  friend's  character  ?  He  is 
neither  my  son  nor  disciple."  Thus  the  prophetess 
meant  to  justify  and  atone  for  her  insolence  by 
repeating  it  anew.  My  friend  was  pacified,  and 
gave  her  a  ducat,  saying  :  "  Make  merry  with  that, 
— where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  Where  do  I  live  ?  "  she  replied  ;  "  my  roof 
changes  so  often  that  I  cannot  tell  or  describe  it  to 
you  ;  not  unfrequently  it  is  open,  and  my  compan 
ion  is  the  howling  storm  ;  where  men  have  not  built 
houses  they  usually  call  it  nature.  But  I  thank  you, 
and  must  requite  your  kindness."  Quickly  and  for 
cibly  taking  the  unwilling  hand  of  my  friend,  she 
held  it  firmly  between  her  bony  fingers,  and  consid 
ered  it  for  some  time  ;  then  letting  the  arm  drop, 
with  a  sigh  she  said  in  a  tone  of  voice  expressive  of 
deep  sorrow,  "  Son,  son  ;  you  descend  from  wicked 
blood,  are  an  evil  scion  of  evil  ancestors  •  but  fortu 
nately  you  are  the  last  of  your  race,  for  your  children 
would  be  more  evil  still.  What  begins  in  evil  must 
end  in  evil.  Ah  !  ah  !  your  physiognomy  ;  your 
expression  ;  your  whole  countenance  ;  I  feel  almost 
as  if  I  saw  a  murderer  before  me.  Yes  !  yes  ! — you 
have  killed  a  young,  beautiful,  and  noble  maiden. 
On  her  dying  bed  she  long  struggled  with  grief  and 
anguish.  0  ye  wicked  men,  can  you  not  be  faithful 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  53 

and  keep  your  oaths.  It  is  not  only  daggers,  swords, 
and  guns,  that  cut  and  kill ;  looks  and  sweet  words 
will  also  do  it.  Oh,  those  seductive  words,  and  all 
that  pretended  affection  !  Now  this  splendid  frame 
that  first  dazzled  your  foolish  eye,  breaks,  and  is  con 
signed  to  corruption.  Beauty  !  oh  thou  fatal  gift  of 
Heaven  !  and  besides,  murderer,  you  are  handsome 
enough  to  kill  others.  The  curses  of  your  father 
follow  you  now,  whether  you  dwell  in  the  forest  or  in 
your  finely  tapestried  rooms.  See  you  not,  feel  you 
not,  how,  coming  from  the  very  heart,  they  waft 
misfortune  and  misery  towards  you,  as  the  stormy 
wind  scatters  the  dry  leaves  in  the  valleys  between 
the  mountains  ?  Where  is  your  peace,  your  happi- 
piness,  your  confidence  ?  All  scattered,  like  the 
drifting  sand  in  the  barren  plain  ;  no  fruit  can  there 
strike  root." 

Suddenly  the  crazy  woman  shouted  aloud,  and 
ran  shrieking  and  yelling  discordantly  into  the  thick 
est  part  of  the  wood.  When  I  looked  round,  I  was 
terrified  on  seeing  my  friend  become  pale  as  death. 
He  shook  so  violently  that  he  could  not  support  him 
self,  but  sank  on  a  hillock  beside  him.  I  sat  down 
by  him,  and  endeavored  to  comfort  and  quiet  him. 

"  Is  this  madwoman,"  he  exclaimed,  "  inspired 
by  truth  ?  does  she  really  see  the  past  and  the  fu 
ture,  or  are  those  only  mad  sounds  which  she  utters 
in  brutish  thoughtlessness  ;  and  if  it  be  so,  have  not 


51  THE    TOKEN". 

such  random  words  been  perhaps  the  genuine  oracles 
in  all  ages  ?  " 

He  now  gave  way  to  tears  and  loud  lamentations  ; 
he  called  loudly  in  the  air,  what  hitherto  he  had  so 
carefully  and  mysteriously  locked  up  in  his  heart. 

"  Yes  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "accursed  be  every  tal 
ent,  speech,  grace,  and  all  the  gifts  with  which  a 
malicious  fate  endowed  us  to  ruin  ourselves  and 
others  !  Could  I  not  have  avoided  her  first  kind 
look  ?  Why  did  I  suffer  myself  to  be  infatuated,  to 
exchange  glance  for  glance,  and  then  word  for  word  ? 
Yes  !  she  was  lovely,  noble,  and  graceful ;  but  in 
my  heart  there  arose  together  with  better  feelings, 
the  vanity  that  even  she,  the  most  exalted,  distin 
guished  me.  I  approached  her  nearer,  more  boldly, 
more  decidedly,  and  my  pure  exalted  sentiments 
surprised  and  won  her.  She  gave  me  her  confidence. 
Her  heart  was  so  virtuous,  so  noble  ;  all  her  youthful 
feelings  were  so  tender  and  fervent  ;  it  was  a  para 
dise  that  opened  to  our  view.  Childishly  enough, 
we  thought  that  no  higher  happiness  on  earth 
could  be  offered  us,  the  present  heavenly  moment 
sufficed.  But  now  passion  awoke  in  my  heart.  This 
she  expected  not,  she  was  terrified,  and  withdrew. 
This  goaded  my  self-love  ;  I  felt  unhappy,  crushed, 
and  ill.  Her  compassion  was  moved,  and  she  no 
longer  avoided  me.  By  means  of  an  attendant  in  our 
confidence,  we  were  able  to  meet  without  witnesses. 
Our  intercourse  became  more  tender,  our  love  more 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  55 

defined  and  ardent ;  but  as  these  feelings  were  embo 
died  in  language,  and  expressed  more  definitely,  the 
paradisiacal  breath,  the  heavenly  bloom  was  fled  for 
ever.  It  was  happiness,  but  changed  in  character ;  it 
was  more  earthly,  more  kindly,  more  confiding,  but  was 
not  surrounded  by  that  magic  which  had  transported 
me  formerly,  so  that  I  could  frequently  ask  myself 
when  alone,  i  are  you  really  happy  ? '  Alas  !  my 
friend,  as  we  saw  each  other  so  often,  how  many  fool 
ish  and  mad  projects  were  then  conceived  ! 

"  We  talked,  we  conversed  of  the  future  of  which 
those  who  ardently  love  never  think  in  the  early  pe 
riod  of  their  ecstacies.  Once  an  opportunity  of  an 
alliance  likely  to  add  to  the  lustre  of  her  house  pre 
sented  itself.  What  fury  and  bitter  rancor  were 
aroused  in  me  !  For  only  appearing  favorably 
disposed  towards  this  illustrious  alliance,  she  suffered 
much  from  my  anger.  My  passion  was  ignoble,  as 
she  deeply  felt,  more  from  her  love  to  me,  than  from 
the  sufferings  it  caused  her.  Oh  !  she  was  never 
able  to  erase  from  her  soul  this  picture  of  my  mad 
ness.  To  alleviate  my  sufferings  and  completely  to 
reconcile  me,  she  stooped  to  my  mean  and  rude  na 
ture.  Our  hearts  harmonised  again,  but  from  the 
lowering  clouds  that  now  surrounded  me,  I  looked 
back  with  yearnings  to  that  heavenly  serenity  that 
first  shone  dazzlingly  upon  me  so.  In  imagination 
we  lived  as  though  affianced,  and  dreamt  of  our 
union,  of  unexpected  bliss,  of  varied  pleasures,  and 


56  THE    TOKEN. 

turns  of  fate  never  to  be  realised.  But  these  were 
misty  visions,  and  we  considered  the  greatest  im 
probabilities  as  near  and  natural.  The  habitual 
thoughts  of  our  love  gradually  destroyed  necessary 
precaution.  The  looks  of  spies  were  watchful,  and 
were  sharpened  by  our  imprudence.  Rumors  were 
circulated,  which  perhaps  never  would  have  reached 
the  prince  himself,  had  not  his  own  glance  suspected 
and  discovered  our  connection.  He  now  learnt  more 
from  his  questions  than  he  desired  to  know,  and  far 
more  than  was  in  accordance  with  truth.  One  even 
ing  he  sent  for  me  to  attend  him  alone  in  his  closet, 
and  displayed  to  me  in  this  serious  interview  all  the 
nobleness  of  his  great  mind.  Without  reproaching 
me,  he  ascribed  to  himself  alone  the  immediate  cause 
of  my  presumption,  saying  that  he  had  treated  me 
with  too  much  confidence,  nay  almost  like  a  son  ; 
that  he  had  deviated  too  much  from  his  rank  and 
the  laws  of  etiquette  ;  that  he  had  foolishly  rejoiced 
in  the  thought  of  his  daughter  being  able  by  inter 
course  with  me  to  improve  her  mind.  As  he  became 
more  serious,  I  assured  the  agitated  father  by  my 
honor,  and  by  all  that  is  sacred, — which  indeed  was 
in  accordance  with  the  truth, — that  our  mutual  pas 
sion  had  never  led  us  astray,  and  that  our  better 
genius  had  never  forsaken  us.  At  this  he  became 
tranquil,  and  only  replied  by  prohibiting  as  I  had 
anticipated.  I  was  not  allowed  to  meet  his  daughter 
again  privately.  I  was  to  endeavor  by  degrees  to 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  57 

heal  the  wounds  which  our  separation  caused,  to 
eradicate  the  affection,  which  I  had  so  rashly  kindled, 
by  my  good  sense  and  demeanor,  and  thereby  to 
make  myself  worthy  to  regain  the  confidence  and 
love  of  the  prince. 

"  Suddenly  I  felt  as  if  the  veil  had  fallen  from 
my  eyes,"  continued  Francis,  "  indeed,  I  may  say, 
that  by  this  interview,  I  was  quite  a  changed  being. 
Truth  and  reality  had  now,  at  length,  with  victori 
ous  power,  asserted  their  ascendency  over  me.  Many 
periods  of  life  may  be  compared  to  a  vivid  fantastic 
dream  ;  we  awake  to  sober  consciousness,  but  still 
feel  the  reality  of  the  vision. 

"  But,  ah  !  my  friend,  this  truth  created^  a  hell 
within  me.  My  mind  yielded  to  the  noble  father  in 
every  thing.  He  was  right  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
word.  If  I  admired  Juliet,  and  recognised  her  worth  ; 
if  she  was  my  friend,  and  I  sufficiently  important  to 
elevate  her  mind,  what  had  that  to  do  with  our  passion 
and  my  efforts  to  possess  her  ?  With  this  conviction 
I  was  now  penetrated,  and  the  feeling  exerted  a  be 
nign  influence  over  me.  But  how  different  were  her 
feelings  !  When  such  changes  occur,  women  usually 
suffer  from  the  consuming  fire  of  passion.  What  let 
ters  did  I  receive  from  her,  when  I  had  communicated 
to  her  my  resolution  and  the  advice  that  we  must  sub 
mit  to  necessity  !  I  almost  repeated  the  words  which 
I  had  heard  from  her  beautiful  lips  when  I  urged  my 
ardent  attachment.  She  now  listened  in  a  spirit  dif- 
4 


58  THE  TOKEN. 

ferent  from  that  which  harassed  her  formerly  ;  deaf 
to  all  advice,  unsusceptible  to  every  kindness,  inac 
cessible  to  conviction,  she  only  listened  to  the  wild 
suggestions  of  her  ardent  affection.  My  reason  seem 
ed  to  her  cowardice,  my  resignation  baseness.  She 
alone  was  exclusively  to  be  considered  in  the  question 
that  agitated  my  heart.  In  short,  she  now  played 
the  same  part  that  I  had  done  formerly.  Looking 
back  upon  my  former  conduct  with  repentance  and 
shame,  I  hoped  I  should  be  able,  by  calm  persever 
ance,  to  bring  her  gradually  to  the  same  conviction. 
But  she  frustrated  my  hopes.  It  was  singular  that 
I  was  made  unhappy  by  possessing,  in  the  fullest 
measure,  what  I  had  formerly  considered  my  supreme 
felicity  ;  and  that  my  most  fervent  desire  extended 
no  further  than  to  be  able  to  restore  her  to  tran 
quillity,  nay,  even  to  produce  coldness  and  indiffer 
ence. 

"  So  whimsical  are  the  gods  frequently  towards 
us  in  the  bestowal  of  their  gifts. 

"  My  letters  grieved  her  deeper  and  deeper,  as 
she  showed  by  her  replies.  Thence  it  was  that  I 
could  not  but  wish  myself  once  more  able  to  obtain 
a  tete-a-tete  with  her  in  some  evening  hour,  such  as  I 
had  formerly  enjoyed  over  and  over  again.  By  bribery, 
entreaty,  and  humiliation,  I  succeeded. 

"  But,  oh,  Heavens  !  how  different  was  this  Juliet 
from  her  who  once  had  so  enraptured  and  inspired 
me.  With  her  grief,  her  mortified  feelings  and  her 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  59 

offended  pride,  she  resembled  a  raving  Bacchante. 
On  approaching  her,  I  said  to  myself  :  (  To  this  state 
then  has  my  love,  vanity,  and  eloquence,  reduced 
her  !  Oh  !  ye  men,  who,  by  your  power,  are  able  to 
elevate  these  tender  beings  to  angels,  or  change  them 
to  wild  furies ! '  But  these  reflections  came  too  late. 
If  her  letters  were  violent,  her  words  were  raging.  No 
thing  in  the  whole  world  she  desired,  except  my  love. 
She  cared  for  nothing ;  every  thing  seemed  right  and 
desirable, — flight  into  the  open  world,  sacrifice  of  sta 
tion,  mortification  of  her  father  and  family.  I  was 
terrified  at  this  distraction,  that  seemed  to  fear  and 
dread  nothing.  The  more  persuasive  my  manner, 
and  the  more  desirous  I  was  to  convince  her  of  the 
unavoidable  necessity  of  submiting,  the  more  furious 
in  words  and  gestures  she  became.  She  would  fly 
with  me  immediately.  I  felt  it  required  nothing  more 
than  to  express  the  wish,  and  she  would  have  sur 
rendered  herself,  in  this  distraction,  totally  and  un 
conditionally.  I  was  wretched  from  my  inmost  heart ; 
indeed,  all  my  energies  were  annihilated. 

"  I  learned  that  the  prince  had  only  spoken  to 
her  in  hints  ;  the  truth  was  known  to  her  only  from 
our  correspondence.  She  blamed  me,  her  father,  and 
fate,  and  only  became  calm  after  a  floo  1  of  tears.  I 
was  obliged  to  promise  to  see  her  again  in  a  few  days 
in  order  to  discuss  the  means  of  her  flight.  Thus  my 
feelings  were  so  changed  that  I  feared  this  once  ador 
ed  Juliet,  and,  indeed,  could  not  help  despising  her. 


60  THE    TOKEN. 

And  yet  she  was  the  same,  and  only  the  unhappy 
passion  that  I  had  infused  from  my  heart  into  hers 
had  rendered  her  thus  infatuated.  I  trembled  again 
to  see  her.  I  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  what  pre 
text  for  delay,  or  what  excuses  to  invent.  Thus 
some  weeks  passed,  during  which  we  only  exchanged 
letters.  To  conclude,  I  saw  her  again.  She  seemed 
ill,  hut  still  in  that  excitement  which  would  not 
listen  to  reason.  She  had  provided  a  carriage,  packed 
up  her  jewels,  made  the  necessary  preparations  on  the 
frontier,  procured  passports,  and  powerful  protec 
tions  in  distant  countries  ;  in  short  she  had  done  all 
that  madness  of  an  unbounded  love  could  undertake. 
I  treated  her  as  an  invalid  who  does  not  know  her 
own  state,  humored  all  her  extravagances,  and 
praised  her  most  whimsical  plans.  Thus  she  thought 
we  agreed,  and  in  a  week  we  were  to  fly  during  a 
masquerade^  while  all  were  busied,  and  no  one  could 
be  recognised.  To  satisfy  her  for  the  moment  I  agreed 
to  every  thing,  but  proposed  in  my  own  heart  to  quit 
the  court  and  the  town.  While  we  were  thus  dis 
cussing  our  highly  reasonable  projects  I  suddenly 
perceived  behind  us  the  prince,  who  had  been  for 
some  time  listening  to  our  conversation.  The  scene 
which  then  took  place  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe. 
The  father's  anger  overstepped  all  bounds  on  finding 
me  untrue  to  my  promise,  since  he  was  convinced 
that  I  quite  agreed  to  all  the  wild  plans  of  his  daughter. 
She  cast  herself  at  his  feet  totally  unlike  the  beauti- 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG.  61 

ful  being  she  was  formerly,  she  resembled  an  autom 
aton  moved  by  powerful  springs,  a  figure  only  mani 
festing  life  in  convulsive  gestures.  It  is  astonishing 
that  we  ever  outlive  some  moments.  I  was  banished, 
obliged  to  fly  into  solitude,  and  for  a  long  time  heard 
nothing  of  the  city  or  what  occurred  there,  as  I 
avoided  all  intercourse  with  men.  When  I  in  some 
measure  recovered  my  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  was 
able  to  bear  the  sight  of  friends,  I  heard  that  she  was 
suffering  from  an  incurable  disease,  and  that  her  life 
was  despaired  of  by  the  physician.  How  whimsically 
does  fate  sport  with  man  and  all  human  intentions  ! 
I  was  informed  that  her  father  in  the  extremity  of 
grief,  would  willingly  have  given  me  his  beloved 
child  had  he  been  able  thereby  to  save  her  ;  that 
he  would  have  despised  the  opinion  of  the  world,  and 
the  objections  of  his  family,  could  he  by  these  means 
have  saved  his  Juliet,  by  whose  illness  he  had  first 
learnt  how  much  he  loved  her,  and  how  much  his  life 
was  bound  up  in  hers.  All  was  in  vain, — she  died 
in  agonies,  calling  for  me,  and  the  disconsolate  father 
heaped  execrations  upon  me  that  will  overtake  me, 
ay, — as  surely  as  her  own." 

These  are,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  affecting 
confessions  of  my  unhappy  friend.  He  added,  in  con 
clusion,  that  the  whole  of  his  property  would  be  lost, 
unless  he  discovered  a  certain  document  for  which 
he  had  long  been  searching,  but  which  he  could  find 
nowhere. 


62  THE    TOKEN. 

There  are  sufferings  during  which  it  is  foolish  to 
make  even  the  attempt  at  offering  consolation.  Such 
sufferings  must  he  lived  through,  they  are  peculiar  to 
human  nature,  and  he  who  is  not  overwhelmed  by 
them,  hut  survives  them,  will  afterwards  see  that  to 
pass  such  a  severe  reprobation  was  essential  to  his 
happiness. 

"  I  am  convinced,"  said  my  friend  a  few  days 
afterwards,  when  I  took  leave  of  him,  "  that  these 
execrations  and  the  prophecies  of  the  old  fury  will 
visit  me.  My  life  will  be  consumed  in  illness,  misery, 
delirium,  and  poverty.  The  spirit  of  the  departed 
will  tread  in  my  footsteps  and  sow  poison,  where, 
perhaps,  some  joy  might  otherwise  have  sprung." 

I  began  to  comfort  him,  calling  to  my  aid,  hope 
and  consolation  from  every  source,  because  such  ap 
prehensions  are  generally  imaginary,  and  may  be  com 
bated.  Hope  is  at  least  more  infinite  than  the  all- 
engrossing  sensation  of  such  visionary  fear.  We 
separated,  and  for  a  long  time  I  heard  nothing  of  my 
friend  Francis.  I  lived  in  foreign  countries  and  re 
turned  some  years  after  the  period  in  question. 

We  had  not  kept  up  any  correspondence.  I  was 
therefore  surprised  and  delighted  by  his  first  letter 
which  I  received  in  my  own  comfortable  home.  There 
was  no  allusion  to  his  former  sufferings  ;  all  was  for 
gotten.  Time  and  fortune  had  transformed  my 
friend  into  a  truly  new  being.  He  wrote  to  me  of 
his  approaching  marriage.  The  most  beautiful  girl 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG.  68 

of  the  country,  young,  cheerful,  and  innocent,  had 
bestowed  her  affections  upon  him  ;  and  on  the  very 
day  on  which  their  vows  were  exchanged,  he  had, 
after  years  of  fruitless  search,  discovered  the  impor 
tant  document  which  would  complete  their  nuptial 
happiness.  The  melanchoy  time,  he  informed  me, 
had  vanished  from  his  mind,  his  youth  seemed  re 
newed,  and  now  only  he  hegan  to  live.  In  a  week 
his  marriage  was  to  be  celebrated,  and  he  urged  me 
to  come  and  be  a  witness  of  his  happiness. 

It  would  have  delighted  me  to  have  complied 
with  his  invitation,  had  not  my  uncle,  who  lived 
forty  miles  distant,  and  was  then  lying  on  his  death 
bed,  called  me  from  home.  The  prince,  who  bitter 
ly  hated  and  persecuted  my  friend,  had  died  in  the 
meanwhile,  so  that,  in  all  human  probability,  there 
was  the  prospect  that  every  thing  ominous,  mena 
cing,  and  fatal,  would  fade  away  and  be  forgotten,  and 
that  spirts  of  fortune  and  delight  would  henceforth 
draw  my  friend's  car  of  life. 

My  stay  with  my  uncle,  who  was  dying,  was  pro 
tracted.  His  sufferings  lasted  longer  than  his  phy 
sicians  had  expected,  and  I  was  glad  that  my  pre 
sence  was  so  consoling  and  beneficial  to  him.  After 
his  death,  I  had  various  business  to  transact,  to  exe 
cute  his  will,  to  make  arrangements  with  the  remain 
ing  relatives,  part  of  his  fortune  being  left  to  me 
and  to  settle  all  to  our  mutual  satisfaction.  As 
journeys  were  required  for  these  matters,  nearly  eigh- 


64  THE    TOKEN. 

teen  months  elapsed  before  they  were  completed. 
The  journeys  had  carried  me  far  from  our  neighbor 
hood,  and  I  must  confess  that  these  circumstances, 
and  the  pressure  of  business,  had  almost  caused  me  to 
forget  my  friend  Francis.  He  had  not  written  to 
me,  nor  had  I  heard  any  thing  of  him,  and  I  was, 
therefore,  convinced  that  it  was  well  with  him  ;  that 
he  was  married  and  happy  in  his  new  condition.  Be 
ing  soon  after  near  Switzerland  I  made  a  tour  to  that 
country,  and  then  visited  a  watering-place  on  the 
Khine,  to  which  my  medical  adviser  had  long  before 
recommended  me. 

Here  I  abandoned  myself  to  amusements,  enjoy 
ed  the  beauties  of  nature  during  my  rambles,  and 
felt  happier  than  I  had  been  for  some  time.  Being 
one  day  at  the  table  d'hote,  I  accidentally  looked  over 
the  list  of  visitors,  and  found  that  my  friend  Francis, 
with  his  wife,  had  been  a  week  in  the  town.  I  won 
dered  he  had  not  found  me  out,  as  my  name  must 
have  struck  him  in  the  list.  However,  I  accounted 
for  his  not  doing  so,  by  saying  to  myself  that  he  had 
not  looked  over  the  leaves  attentively,  that  he  had  not 
heard  my  name  mentioned,  or  that  possibly  he  might 
be  seriously  ill  and  would  see  no  company.  Satisfied 
so  far,  I  called  upon  him,  and  was  told  he  was -not  at 
home.  I  hoped  to  meet  him  in  my  walks,  but  per 
ceived  him  nowhere.  Calling  the  following  day,  I  re 
ceived  the  same  answer,  that  he  had  gone  out.  I  left 
my  card,  requesting  he  would  pay  me  a  visit  or  tell 


THE    KLAUSENBURG.  65 

me  when  he  would  receive  me.  I  heard  nothing 
from  him.  The  next  morning  early,  I  called  again, 
and  the  servant  again  replied,  with  a  troubled  coun 
tenance,  that  his  master  was  already  from  home. 

Now  I  plainly  saw,  that  Francis  did  not  choose 
to  see  me,  and  had  denied  himself.  I  endeavored  to 
call  to  my  memory,  whether  I  had  at  any  time  given 
him  offence  ;  but  after  the  strictest  scrutiny,  could 
not  find  the  least  spot  on  my  conscience  respecting 
him.  I  therefore  wrote  him  rather  a  severe  letter, 
requiring  him  to  see  me,  and  that  not  merely  from 
friendship  to  me,  but  from  the  respect  he  owed 
himself. 

When  I  called  again,  I  was  admitted,  and  hav 
ing  waited  for  some  time  in  the  room,  I  saw  a 
stranger  approaching  from  the  adjoining  chamber, 
not  like  a  human  being,  but  a  tottering,  trembling 
skeleton,  with  a  pale,  sunken  countenance,  which, 
but  for  the  fiery  eye,  one  might  have  taken  for  the 
face  of  a  corpse.  "  Great  God  !  "  I  exclaimed  with 
horror,  as  I  recognised  in  this  spectre  my  friend 
Francis,  that  once  handsome,  noble  fellow. 

I  sank  terrified  into  a  chair,  and  he  sat  down  by 
me,  took  my  hand  between  his  withered  fingers,  and 
said,  "  Yes !  my  friend,  thus  we  again  meet,  and 
you  now  understand  why  I  wished  to  spare  you  this 
sad  sight.  Yes  !  friend,  all  those  curses  have  been 
realised,  and  calamity  has  overtaken  me,  however 
actively  I  endeavored  to  escape  it ;  my  life  is  ex- 
4* 


66  THE    TOKEN. 

hausted  by  disease,  as  well  as  that  of  my  youthful 
wife,  once  a.  paragon  of  beauty  ;  I  arn  a  beggar,  and 
all  hope  is  gone  for  ever." 

Still  I  could  not  recover  from  my  astonishment ; 
the  first  chilling  terror  was  succeeded  by  the  deepest 
compassion  and  ineffable  sympathy  in  my  soul,  and 
my  unfortunate  friend  saw  my  tears  flow. 

"  But  how  has  all  this  been  possible  ?  "  I  ex 
claimed.  "  Speak  ;  confide  all  to  your  friend." 

"  Spare  me,"  he  said,  in  a  faint  voice,  "let  us 
throw  a  veil  over  these  calamities,  for  what  good  can 
it  do  you  to  know  the  why  and  wherefore  ?  You 
would  not  comprehend  nor  believe  it,  and  still  less 
could  your  advice  or  consolation  avail  any  thing." 

I  could  make  no  reply,  his  distress  seemed  so 
great,  that  he  was,  perhaps,  right  in  what  he  said. 
Words,  details,  and  complaints,  are  often  only 
stings  to  the  deadly  wound.  I  requested  him  to 
introduce  me  to  his  wife.  He  led  her  in.  She 
seemed  to  suffer  equally  with  himself,  but  still 
showed  evident  traces  of  beauty.  She  was  of  a  tall, 
noble  figure,  her  blue  eye  was  of  a  piercing  clear 
ness,  and  her  sweet-toned  voice  was  full  of  soul. 
After  some  conversation,  the  physician  entered,  and 
I  took  my  leave,  making  it  a  condition,  that  in 
future  he  would  not  refuse  to  see  me. 

I  required  rest  to  collect  myself,  and  therefore, 
sought  the  most  solitary  spot  to  arrange  my 
thoughts  and  feelings.  How  strange,  in  these  ino- 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  67 

ments,  appeared  human  life,  friendship,  death,  and 
health  !  In  these  my  dreams,  I  was  interrupted  by 
a  friendly  voice  addressing  me.  It  was  the  physi 
cian,  an  elderly  good-natured  man,  who  sat  down 
beside  me.  "  I  have  learned,"  he  began,  "  that  you 
are  a  youthful  friend  of  our  poor  patient,  and  have 
sought  you  to  consult  with  you,  respecting  his 
lamentable  and  enigmatical  state.  I  have  never 
met  with  a  similar  illness,  I  do  not  understand  it, 
and,  therefore,  am  but  groping  in  the  dark  with  my 
remedies  ;  nor  do  I  know  whether  the  waters  here 
are  salutary  to  him  or  his  sick  wife,  who  seems 
wasting  away  from  the  same  complaint.  I  have  no 
name  for  this  wasting  fever,  which  defies  all  known 
remedies.  Sometimes  I  could  almost  imagine  them 
insane,  did  not  reason  absolutely  manifest  itself. 
But  even  should  their  minds  be  unimpaired,  they 
are,  doubtless,  hypochondriacs.  And  the  worst 
is,  the  count  will  not  communicate  freely,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  anxiously  avoids  all  questions  respect 
ing  his  condition,  and  all  inquiries  as  to  its  cause 
and  commencement.  I  do  not  wish  to  irritate  him, 
though  my  inquiries  and  questions  have  more  than 
once  had  that  effect,  and  yet  it  seems  necessary  to 
learn  from  himself  the  history  of  his  complaint.  I 
therefore  request  you,  dear  sir,  to  exert  your  influ 
ence  with  him,  as  his  friend,  that  he  may  confess  to 
us  the  origin  of  his  illness.  If  I  once  knew  this,  it 
might,  perhaps,  be  possible  to  afford)  relief  to  both 


68  THE    TOKEN. 

of  them.  If  the  disease  is  mental,  of  which  I  feel 
almost  convinced,  the  physician  must  be  in  their 
confidence  to  afford  relief;  but  if  this  is  withheld, 
he  may  cause  even  death,  not  only  by  his  prescrip 
tions,  but  by  an  unguarded  word.  I  therefore  con 
jure  you  to  do  all  in  your  power  to  make  him  con 
fide  every  thing  to  you."  I  promised  all  he  desired, 
for  I  had  long  entertained  the  same  opinion.  But 
when,  on  the  following  day,  I  remonstrated  with 
my  friend,  I  found  the  task  more  difficult  than  I 
expected,  as  he  was  inaccessible  on  that  point.  He 
did  not  yield  until  I  united  tears  to  my  entreaties, 
and  his  suffering  wife  joined  with  me,  as  the  hope 
arose  within  her  that  the  physician  might  be  able  to 
afford  relief  to  her  husband.  He  stipulated  that 
whatever  he  should  communicate  should  be  com 
municated  in  private  to  me  alone,  undisturbed,  and 
without  even  the  presence  of  his  wife,  who  would  be 
much  pained  at  the  relation. 

Thus  was  it  arranged.  My  little  room  looking 
on  the  garden  was  so  quiet  and  retired,  that  no  in 
trusion  was  to  be  feared,  and  after  a  frugal  supper 
I  dismissed  the  servant,  enjoining  him  not  to  admit 
any  one.  The  invalid  countess  was  left  with  her 
attendants,  and  a  lady  of  my  acquaintance  kindly 
read  some  amusing  work  to  her  during  her  husband's 
absence. 

We  sat  then  in  my  well  lighted  little  room, 
while  the  summer  breezes  murmured  sweetly  through 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  69 

the  trees  without.  My  sick  friend  was  on  the  sofa, 
and  the  physician  and  myself  were  opposite,  when 
Francis  began  slowly  and  with  many  pauses  (as 
speaking  seemed  painful  to  him)  the  following 
narrative  : 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  you  see  me  again,  ill  and  dying, 
and  my  wife,  who  but  two  years  since  was  a  paragon 
of  health  and  beauty,  is  no  less  afflicted.  The 
Klausenburg  which  more  than  once  sheltered  us  so 
hospitably  is  become  a  desolate  ruin  ;  storms  and 
fire  have  destroyed  it,  and  whatever  useful  material 
remained  was  wrested  from  it  by  my  cruel  creditors 
in  derision,  and  sold  for  a  mere  trifle.  You  know, 
my  friend,  the  belief  or  rather  superstition  that  fol 
lowed  me,  but  with  this  I  will  not  weary  our  good 
physician,  as  it  had  no  sensible  influence  on  my  im 
mediate  fate.  I  have,  moreover,  so  much  of  the 
marvellous  to  tell  in  the  recent  events  that  have 
befallen  me,  that  it  will  be  more  than  sufficient  fully 
to  convince  the  learned  doctor  that  I  am  insane. 

"  Young  as  I  was  I  had  already  resigned  life, 
since  I  considered  it  completely  at  a  close.  But  as 
it  frequently  happens  that  the  power  of  a  beautiful 
spring  will  revive  a  tree  apparently  lifeless,  so  that 
its  branches  again  become  verdant,  and  at  last  one 
blossom  springs  from  them,  so  it  happened  with  me. 
Travelling  about  in  a  misanthropical  mood  I  stopped 
in  a  small  town  situate  in  a  delightful  country,  and 
through  my  introductions  made  acquaintance  with 


70  THE    TOKEN". 

some  interesting  people.  One  of  these,  a  distant 
relative,  who  received  me  most  kindly,  introduced 
me  to  his  family,  where,  for  the  first  time  I  saw  my 
beloved  Elizabeth,  and  at  the  second  visit  I  had  lost 
my  heart  and  peace  of  mind.  But  wherefore  dwell 
on  charms  that  are  fled  ?  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I 
was  enraptured,  and  flattered  myself  that  my  feel 
ings  were  understood,  and  might  perhaps  in  a  short 
time  be  returned.  Elizabeth  was  residing  with  an 
aged  aunt ;  they  were  neither  of  them  wealthy, 
though  they  belonged  to  an  ancient  family.  I  was 
superior  to  the  talk  and  astonishment  of  the  towns 
people,  and  I  stayed  a  long  while  in  this  insignifi 
cant  place,  where  there  was  neither  a  theatre  to 
amuse,  nor  large  assemblies,  balls,  and  festivals  to 
engage  me.  I  was  so  happy  that  I  only  lived  for, 
and  enjoyed,  the  present  moment.  The  family  was 
very  musical,  and  Elizabeth  a  truly  accomplished  per 
former  on  the  pianoforte.  Her  voice  was  highly  cul 
tivated,  full-toned,  and  beautiful,  and  she  agreeably 
surprised  me  by  joining  in  my  perhaps  one-sided 
taste  for  ancient  composition.  Harmony,  skill,  and 
kind  looks  from  her  beautiful  eyes, — all  this  so 
charmed  me  that  weeks  vanished  like  days,  and  days 
like  hours  in  the  poetical  intoxication. 

"I  spoke  of  the  family.  The  aunt  too  was 
musical,  and  accompanied  us  when  we  sang.  I  also 
found  myself  benefited  by  becoming  again  conscious 
of  the  talents  which  I  had  so  long  neglected  to  ex- 


THE    KLAUSENBURG.  71 

ercise.  Yes,  indeed,  talents,  amiability,  social  gifts, 
and  pleasing  manners,  &c." — continued  Francis 
after  a  pause,  during  which  he  seemed  lost  in  thought 
— "  the  vanity  of  possessing  these  graces  have  ren 
dered  me  and  others  unhappy.  Speaking  of  the 
family,  I  must  now  mention  Ernestine,  an  elder 
sister  of  my  wife's.  Their  parents  had  died  early  in 
life.  They  had  lived  at  a  distance  from  that  small 
town,  in  what  is  called  good  style.  This  they  did 
without  considering  their  fortune,  and  the  conse 
quence  was  that  they  became  impoverished  and  in 
volved  in  debt.  Where  this  confusion  breaks  in, 
where  the  necessity  of  the  moment  ever  absorbs  the 
security  of  the  days  and  weeks,  few  men  possess 
sufficient  energy  and  resolution  firmly  to  hold  the 
rudder  amid  the  tumult  of  a  returning  storm.  And 
thus  the  wildest  and  most  confused  management 
had  broken  into  this  ruined  household.  The  parents 
not  only  diverted  themselves  in  banqueting,  dress, 
and  theatres,  but,  as  it  were,  even  with  new  and  sin 
gular  misfortunes.  The  latter  were  more  particularly 
caused  by  their  eldest  daughter,  Ernestine.  This 
poor  being  had,  when  only  three  years  old,  during 
the  confusion  and  bustle  of  a  banquet,  unnoticed  by 
any  one,  taken  up  a  bottle  of  strong  liquid,  and 
drinking  it,  became  intoxicated  by  it,  and  thus  had 
unconsciously  fallen  down  a  high  staircase. 

"  The  accident  had  scarcely  been  observed,  and 
was  lightly  thought  of  when  discovered.    The  physi- 


72  THE  TOKEN. 

cian,  a  jovial  friend  of  the  family,  instead  of  apply 
ing  the  proper  remedies,  joked  on  the  occurrence,  and 
hence  it  was  that  those  consequences  soon  appeared 
in  the  child,  which  she  could,  in  after  years,  justly 
attribute  to  want  of  affection  in  her  parents.  The 
chest-bone  and  spine  were  dislocated,  so  that  as  she 
grew  up,  she  became  more  and  more  deformed. 
Being  rather  tall,  the  double  hump  was  more  strik 
ing,  her  arms  and  hands  were  excessively  long  and 
thin,  and  her  lean  body  quite  out  of  proportion  to 
her  long  legs.  Her  face  had  a  singular  expression, 
the  little  lively  and  cunning  eyes  could  hardly  peep 
forth  from  beneath  the  bony  vault  of  her  forehead, 
and  the  broad,  flatted  nose,  the  chin  was  peaked,  and 
the  cheeks  were  sunken.  Thus  this  unfortunate  be 
ing  was  a  remarkable  foil  to  her  sister  Elizabeth. 
Their  aunt,  when  she  heard  the  total  ruin  of  the 
family,  had  interfered  and  assisted  them  as  far  as  her 
limited  means  permitted.  Thus  the  younger  daugh 
ter  was  saved  and  continued  healthy,  since  the 
father's  sister  had  taken  the  children  upon  the  death 
of  their  parents,  for  the  purpose  of  educating  them. 
"  The  physical  care  of  Ernestine  came  too  late, 
but  her  mind  was  cultivated,  and  her  talents  were 
awakened.  She  showed  herself  intelligent,  learned 
with  ease,  and  retained  what  she  had  once  acquired, 
evidently  surpassing  her  sister  in  wit  and  presence 
of  mind.  Being  fond  of  reading  philosophical  works, 
she  exercised  her  judgment  and  showed  so  much 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG.  73 

acuteness,  that  she  often  startled  even  men  by  her 
bold  and  abrupt  opinions  ;  not  being  united  to  her 
own  sex  by  beauty  and  grace,  she  not  unfrequently 
exercised  a  more  than  masculine  power.  But  what 
almost  seemed  to  border  on  the  marvellous  was  her 
great  talent  for  music.  Never  had  I  heard  the 
pianoforte  played  in  such  a  perfect  manner  ;  every 
difficulty  vanished  before  her,  and  she  only  laughed 
when  difficult  passages  were  mentioned  to  her. 

"  No  doubt  the  extraordinary  span  of  her  hand 
and  fingers  assisted  her  in  excelling  all  that  can  be 
done  by  an  ordinary  hand.  Being  also  well  versed 
in  the  art  of  composition,  she  composed  with  ease 
long  pieces  of  music  which  we  often  executed  to  her 
delight. 

"  Could  not  such  a  being  be  happy  independent 
of  others  ?  Certainly,  if  she  had  resigned  herself  to 
her  lot,  if  she  could  have  forgotten  she  was  a  wo 
man.  Unfortunately  for  her,  all  men  forgot  it  who 
approached  her,  but  she  could  never  raise  herself  be 
yond  the  limit  so  as  to  belong  to  the  other  sex,  or 
to  none. 

"  This  singular  being  attracted  me  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  both  by  her  excellences  and  her  repulsive- 
ness.  When  they  performed  and  I  sang  her  composi 
tions,  there  beamed  in  moments  of  excitement  from 
her  small  eyes,  a  wonderful,  poetic  spirit,  like  a 
veiled  angel  humbled  in  the  dust,  with  benign  yet 


74  THE    TOKEN. 

terrifying  splendor.     This  frequently  made  me  for 
get  that  she  was  the  sister  of  my  Elizabeth. 

"  Elizabeth  had  before  refused  some  suitors  who 
had  earnestly  courted  her.  Entering  once  the  ante 
chamber  unannounced,  I  heard  both  sisters  engaged 
in  a  lively  conversation  in  which  my  name  was  men 
tioned.  c  You  will  not  accept  him  I  hope/  cried 
Ernestine  ;  e  he  suits  neither  you  nor  us  ;  they  say 
he  is  not  very  rich,  but  he  is  so  proud,  so  self- suffi 
cient,  so  convinced  of,  and  so  penetrated  with,  his 
own  excellence,  that  he  excites  my  indignation 
whenever  he  comes  near  us.  You  call  him  amiable, 
noble ;  but  I  tell  you  he  is  dogmatical  and  obsti 
nate  ;  and,  believe  me,  his  mental  gifts  are  not  so 
great  as  you  seem  to  think/ 

"  With  a  gentle  voice  Elizabeth  undertook  my 
defence,  but  her  sister  discussed  all  the  bad  traits  of 
my  character  so  much  the  more,  and  passed  all  my 
faults  in  review.  Finding  that  I  was  the  subject  of 
so  much  discussion,  I  would  not  surprise  them  by  en 
tering  immediately,  and  thus  I  discovered,  against 
my  expectation,  the  dislike  the  eldest  sister  enter 
tained  for  me.  I  therefore  resolved  to  reconcile  this 
unfortunate  being,  for  whom  life  had  so  few  charms 
and  joys,  by  kindness  and  benevolence.  When  they 
had  ceased  I  entered,  and  the  aunt  also  joining  us 
we  immediately  commenced  our  musical  exercises, 
by  which  means  I  could  best  conceal  my  embarrass 
ment. 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  75 

"After  a  few  visits  I  actually  succeeded  in  dis 
posing  Ernestine  more  kindly  towards  me.  When 
it  happened  that  we  were  alone,  we  were  deeply  en 
gaged  in  serious  conversation,  arid  I  could  not  help 
admiring  both  her  mind  and  acquirements.  I  could 
not  hut  agree  with  her,  when  she  often  spoke  with 
contempt  of  those  men  who  only  esteem  and  love  in 
woman  the  transient  and  mutable  charms  that  pass 
away  with  their  youth.  She  was  also  fond  of  rail 
ing  at  those  girls  who  so  frequently  pass  themselves 
off  as  phenomena,  and  only,  as  it  were,  wish  to  please 
as  dolls  of  fashion  and  well-dressed  blocks.  She  re 
vealed  without  affectation  the  wealth  of  her  mind, 
her  deep  feeling,  and  her  lofty  thoughts,  so  that,  in 
admiration  of  her  mighty  soul,  I  hardly  remember 
ed  her  deformed  person.  She  pressed  my  hand 
kindly,  and  seemed  perfectly  happy  when  we  had 
thus  chatted  an  hour  away.  I  was  not  less  rejoiced 
when  I  perceived  how  her  friendship  for  me  appa 
rently  increased  every  day. 

It  struck  me  as  a  weakness  in  my  beloved,  that 
she  was  displeased  at  our  intimacy.  I  did  not  un 
derstand  this  petty  jealousy,  and  censured  it  when 
alone  with  her,  as  showing  too  much  female  weak 
ness.  On  the  other  hand,  I  was  pleased  when  Ernes 
tine  gave  me  evident  proofs  of  her  friendship,  when 
my  appearance  delighted  her,  when  she  was  ready  to 
show  me  a  book  or  piece  of  music,  or  told  me  how 
she  had  prepared  herself  for  a  conversation  with  me 


76  THE    TOKEN. 

on  some  important  subject.  This  genuine  friendship 
seemed  to  me  so  desirable,  that  I  anticipated  great 
delight  at  the  thought  that  she  would,  in  our  mar 
ried  state,  complete  the  measure  of  our  love  by  mu 
tual  confidence.  Their  aunt  approved  of  my  engage 
ment  with  Elizabeth,  and  our  vows  were  exchanged. 
On  this  occasion  Ernestine  was  not  present,  being 
confined  by  illness  to  her  chamber.  I  did  not  see 
her  on  the  day  following,  and  when  I  wished  to  call  on 
her,  my  betrothed  said,  ( Do  not  disturb  her,  my  dear 
friend,  she  is  not  quite  herself,  and  it  is  better  to  let 
her  passion  subside/  '  What  has  happened  ? '  I 
asked,  astonished.  ( It  is  strange/  replied  Elizabeth, 
'  that  you  have  not  long  ere  this  remarked  how  ar 
dently  she  loves  you  ?'  I  was  struck  dumb  with  ter 
ror  and  astonishment  at  this  information,  which  star 
tled  me  the  more  since,  strange  to  say,  I  had  con 
sidered  this  intellectual  being  totally  incapable  of 
love  ;  as  though  passion  did  not  always  run  counter 
to  possibility,  truth,  nature,  and  reason,  if  these  op 
posed  themselves,  as,  indeed,  I  had  myself  experienc 
ed  in  my  own  life  in  a  similar  manner.  '  Yes/  con 
tinued  Elizabeth,  i  almost  at  the  very  time  you  en 
tered  our  house,  I  remarked  her  partiality  to  you, 
but  her  predilection  manifested  itself  more  decidedly, 
when  you  began  to  show  a  preference  for  me,  when 
you  became  more  friendly,  and  thus  gained  my  confi 
dence.  For  a  long  time,  she  concealed  her  affection 
under  a  pretended  dislike,  which,  however,  did  not 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  77 

deceive  me.  Oh  !  beloved,  the  mind  and  feelings,  the 
enthusiasm  and  passions  of  this  singular  being  possess 
such  extraordinary  power  and  intensity,  that  I  have 
been  compelled  ever  since  I  comprehended  her  char 
acter,  to  admire  her  as  much  as  to  fear  her,  and  to 
stand  in  awe  at  her  gigantic  intellect.  When,  some 
years  ago,  I  took  lessons  in  music,  and  made  rapid 
progress,  according  to  the  testimony  of  my  instructor, 
she  only  ridiculed  my  childlike  satisfaction  as  she 
called  it.  She  had  never  before  thought  of  learning 
music,  and  now  devoted  herself  with  all  her  energy  to 
this  accomplishment.  She  practised  day  and  night, 
and  her  master  no  longer  satisfying  her,  she  availed 
herself  of  the  presence  of  a  celebrated  composer,  and 
became  his  pupil.  I  could  not  comprehend  the 
mental  as  well  as  physical  energy,  with  which  she 
devoted  herself  unceasingly,  almost  without  sleep 
and  refreshments,  and  with  unwearied  zeal  to  the 
practice  of  this  art.  It  was  then  she  learned  com 
position  and  gained  her  master's  praise  and  admira 
tion.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  she  found 
fault  with  him,  fancying  his  execution  not  suffi 
ciently  fiery  and  enthusiastic,  his  compositions  not 
sufficiently  original  and  impassioned.  He  submitted, 
and  agreed  with  her.  All  men,  she  used  to  say,  lie 
constantly  in  a  half-sleeping  state,  being  almost  al 
ways,  as  it  were,  in  a  stupor,  similar  to  the  plant 
which  grows,  blooms,  and  is  beautiful,  diffusing  odor, 
and  possessing  powers,  without  consciousness.  What 


78  THE    TOKEN. 

would  men  accomplish  were  they  truly  awake  in 
their  wakeful  state  ?  And  so  she  devoted  herself 
to  philosophy,  reading  works  on  medicine,  anatmoy, 
and  other  subjects,  which  are  usually  too  abstruse 
and  distasteful  to  her  sex.  We,  as  well  as  her  ac 
quaintance,  could  not  help  being  astonished  at  her. 
And  thus,  dear  Francis,  she  will  certainly  become 
insane  in  this  passion  of  love,  and  destroy  her  own 
peace  of  mind/ 

"  Elizabeth  now  also  described  to  me  all  the  ex 
travagances  she  committed  when  she  heard  of  our 
engagement ;  at  first,  she  intended  to  destroy  both 
herself  and  sister ;  then  again  she  said  she  knew 
how  to  conquer  me,  so  that  I  should  love  her  and 
abandon  Elizabeth,  whom  she  excelled  both  in  good 
ness  aud  intellect. 

"  I  was  naturally  grieved  at  this  news,  feeling 
full  well  how  imprudently  I  had  acted  in  making 
such  friendly  advances  to  Ernestine,  in  my  en 
deavors  to  reconcile  her.  I  was  somewhat  relieved, 
when,  a  few  days  afterwards,  Elizabeth  told  me 
that  her  sister  had  apologised  with  tears  for  what 
she  had  spoken  in  anger,  that  she  had  conjured  her 
not  to  communicate  to  me  any  thing  of  these  aberra 
tions,  and  only  implored  her  to  be  allowed  to  ac 
company  us  to  our  future  residence,  as  she  could  not 
possibly  live  without  the  company  of  her  sister  and 
myself,  without  our  conversation,  and  our  music. 
"  Now  plans  and  preparations  were  made,  and  the 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  79 

aunt  accompanied  us  to  the  Klausenburg,  to  cele 
brate,  with  a  few  friends,  our  nuptials  in  quiet,  as 
Elizabeth  had  always  been  excessively  averse  from 
pomp  and  display.  I  had  had  a  few  apartments 
and  the  ball-room  prepared,  as  far  as  it  was  possible, 
the  greater  part  of  the  castle  being  in  ruins.  But 
Elizabeth  had  a  poetical  predilection  for  old  castles, 
solitary  mountainous  countries,  and  the  historical 
legends  connected  with  them.  After  the  wedding, 
we  intended  to  take  up  our  residence  in  a  new  house 
not  far  distant,  and  only  occasionally  to  spend  a  few 
days  or  hours  in  the  Klausenburg. 

"  We  arrived ;  the  gate  was  opened  to  us,  and 
the  first  object  that  met  our  view  in  the  court-yards 
from  amidst  the  ivy  that  twined  the  high  walls,  was 
the  old  mad  Sibyl,  whom  you,  my  friend,  knew  some 
years  ago.  My  wife  was  terrified,  and  I  shuddered. 
4  Welcome  !  Welcome  !  '  cried  the  old  hag,  jumping 
about  with  wild  gestures  ;  '  there  comes  the  de 
stroyer,  the  woman  murderer,  and  brings  his  two 
brides  with  him,  whom  he  will  murder  also/  'How 
do  you  come  here  ?'  I  exclaimed.  The  porter  re 
plied,  '  She  must  have  climbed  down  the  other  side 
of  the  cliffs,  which  form  the  extreme  wall  of  the 
small  garden,  and  must  have  concealed  herself 
among  the  shrubs  and  ruins/  '  You  are  right,  you 
are  right/  screamed  the  old  hag,  '  it  is  pleasant  to 
live  there/  Terrified  as  we  were,  Ernestine  seemed 
merry,  for  she  did  not  cease  laughing. 


80  THE    TOKEN". 

"  During  the  days  on  which  we  celebrated  the 
festival,  Ernestine  did  not  appear ;  she  had  van 
ished  ;  and  being  anxious  about  her,  we  despatched 
people  in  search  of  her,  when,  on  the  third  day,  she 
returned  on  foot,  merry  and  in  high  spirits.  She  told  us 
she  had  not  been  able  to  withstand  the  inclination 
to  roam  about  in  the  mountains,  as  she  always  had 
had  a  desire  to  do  so.  '  But  thus  alone,  without 
informing  us  ?'  said  Elizabeth.  c  Alone  !'  she  re 
plied,  '  No  !  I  have  kept  constant  company  with 
that  old  prophetess  whom  you  so  unkindly  sent  away. 
There  I  have  learnt  many  things  quite  new,  that 
I  never  even  read  of,  and  we  have  become  very 
good  friends/ 

"  We  looked  at  her  with  astonishment.  I  formed 
an  idea  without  expressing  it,  that  Ernestine  was 
mad.  So  awful  and  ominous  was  her  return  to  our 
residence,  such  sad  forebodings  crowded  in  our 
minds,  that,  in  spite  of  my  happiness,  I  felt  no  con 
fidence  on  life,  and  Elizabeth  could  not  regain  her 
cheerfulness. 

"  In  other  respects  we  were  reconciled,  and 
enjoyed  the  present  moment,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
surrounding  woods  and  mountains.  Our  few  guests, 
as  well  as  the  aunt,  had  left  us,  and  we  might  have 
lived  contented  and  in  happy  union  in  this  delight 
ful  solitude,  had  I  not  observed  that  my  wife  avoided 
her  sister  as  much  as  circumstances  permitted. 
When  I  asked  her  the  reason  of  this,  she  answered 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  81 

after  some  hesitation  :  l  Dearest,  I  am  terrified  at 
Ernestine  ;  she  has  become  quite  malicious,  though 
formerly  she  had  not  the  least  disposition  that  way. 
Whenever  she  can  vex  me,  spoil  any  thing,  or  even 
expose  me  to  danger,  so  that  I  may  be  startled, 
stumble,  or  even  fall ;  or  if  any  stones  fall  in  my 
way  she  shows  the  most  malicious  joy,  as  she  did 
when  she  lately  set  the  curtains  of  my  bed  on  fire 
by  bringing  the  candle  too  near  them.  She  has  told 
me  laughing,  that  the  country  people  talk  of  trav 
ellers  and  rangers  having  seen  two  spectres  by  moon 
light,  or  in  the  morning-dawn  in  the  lonely  parts  of 
the  forests,  whom  they  describe  as  terrible  hideous 
beings  ;  that  these  were  herself  and  the  old  gipsy, 
and  that  she  only  wished  that  the  circumstance 
might  appear  in  print,  in  order  that  she,  with  her 
own  signature,  Ernestine  Fraulein  von  Jertz,  might 
contradict  the  story  of  ghosts,  and  state  that  she  was 
one  of  the  imagined  spirits.  Is  not  all  this  terri 
ble  ? ' 

"  '  Dear  child/  said  I,  '  I  must  now  tell  you,  in 
confidence,  that  I  believe  she  is  mad/ 

"  '  Is  any  malice,  when  it  becomes  a  passion, 
any  thing  but  madness  ? '  remarked  Elizabeth,  very 
naturally. 

"  On  the  approach  of  autumn  we  left  the 
Klausenburg  to  take  possession  of  our  new  house, 
for,  to  my  terror,  I  discovered  a  disposition  to  melan 
choly  in  my  wife,  for  which  our  solitude  seemed  any 
4 


82  THE    TOKEtf. 

thing  but  beneficial.  While  we  were  once  walking 
through  the  ancient  apartments  and  the  gothic  hall, 
which  was  in  tolerable  preservation,  and  our  foot 
steps  echoed  in  the  solitary  room,  my  wife  started 
with  a  sudden  shudder.  I  asked  the  reason. 

"  '  0  !  it  is  awful  here/  she  replied,  trembling  ;  'I 
feel  as  if  invisible  spectres  haunted  this  place/  I 
was  terrified,  and  the  thought  that  my  wife's  mind, 
like  [that  of  her  sister,  might  perhaps  have  suffered, 
stared  at  me  like  a  monster. 

"  When  residing  in  our  new  house,  we  often 
missed  Ernestine,  and  on  inquiry,  found  that  she 
staid  in  the  Klausenburg  and  the  ruins  of  the  old 
castle.  Although  we  had  been  living  on  an  un 
pleasant  footing,  still  my  wife,  as  well  as  myself, 
could  not  help  wishing  her  with  us  when  she  was 
away.  But  how  different  was  my  life  from  that 
which  I  had  once  pictured  to  myself  when  I  courted 
Elizabeth ! 

"Other  domestic  calamities  united  with  our 
sufferings  to  increase  our  grief.  That  document 
which  really  constituted  my  fortune  and  supported 
my  existence,  which  proved  that  large  sums  were 
paid,  and  some  still  owing  to  me,  as  well  as  all  the 
deeds  and  papers  which  had  been  produced  as  proofs 
after  the  death  of  Count  Moritz, — all  these  impor 
tant  papers  which  I  had  discovered  after  a  long^ 
troublesome  search,  and  had  in  my  hands  but  a  short 
time  before,  had  again  disappeared.  I  had  always 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  83 

kept  them  carefully  locked  up,  and  it  was  my  inten 
tion  to  travel  to  town  and  deliver  them  to  my  solici 
tor  in  person,  as  on  them  the  recovery  of  my  estates 
depended.  They  were  gone  ;  and  much  as  I  medita 
ted  and  reflected,  I  could  not  discover,  nor  even  find 
a  trace  of  the  way  in  which  they  had  been  purloined. 
When  at  length  I  communicated  my  anxiety  to  my 
wife,  she  did  not  seem  surprised,  and  told  me  calmly, 
'  Can  you  still  doubt  ?  I  have  no  doubt  as  to  what 
has  become  of  them.  Ernestine  has  profited  by 
some  moment  of  your  absence  when  you  might  have 
left  your  escrutoire  open,  or  some  other  forgetfulness, 
to  take  the  papers  away/ 

" '  Not  possible  ! '  I  cried  with  horror.  c  Possi 
ble  ? '  she  repeated.  c  What  is  impossible  to  her  ? ' 

"  As  these  documents  were  wanting,  our  long 
standing  lawsuit  proceeded  but  slowly,  and  I  felt 
sure  that  I  must  lose  it  whenever  it  was  decided.  I 
therefore  availed  myself  of  an  opportunity  which 
the  court  afforded  me,  by  proposing  to  quash  it,  that 
I  might  defer  the  decision  to  some  future  period. 
Still  I  could  not  help  questioning  Ernestine,  and 
informing  her  of  my  suspicions.  I  was  horror-struck 
at  the  manner  in  which  she  heard  me  communicate 
a  suspicion,  which  would  have  shocked  any  innocent 
mind.  When  I  had  overcome  my  embarrassment, 
and  had  concluded,  she  burst  out  in  such  laughter 
that  I  lost  all  composure.  Recovering  again,  I  urged 
her  to  reply,  but  she  only  said,  with  a  sarcastic  cold- 


84  THE    TOKEN. 

ness, f  My  dear  brother-in-law,  there  are  here  only 
two  cases  possible,  as  you  must  yourself  see,  notwith 
standing  your  short-sightedness,  namely,  that  I  am 
either  guilty  or  innocent.  Is  it  not  so  ?  If  I  have 
committed  the  robbery,  I  must  have  been  induced 
by  weighty  reasons,  or  goaded  to  such  an  act  by 
malice,  or  something  else.  And  then  I  ought  to  say : 
yes  !  I  have  done  it,  pray  do  not  take  it  amiss.  Now 
you  must  confess  that  this  would  be  more  than  stupid. 
If  I  were  a  fool,  I  might  have  done  it  without  any 
particular  intention, — may  be  to  light  the  kitchen 
fire  with  them  ;  or  because  I  was  pleased  with  the 
red  seals,  and  might  now  say  :  there,  take  these  pretty 
papers  back,  considering  they  have  some  value  for  the 
dear  count.  But  a  fool  I  have  not  been  up  to  this 
moment ;  and  if  I  am  malicious,  I  am  of  course  not 
silly  enough  to  confess  the  deed.  Or  again,  assuming 
the  second  case  that  I  am  innocent,  then  you,  sir 
brother-in-law  (pray  don't  contradict  me),  are  the 
simpleton  for  putting  such  unbecoming  questions  to 
me/ 

"  I  could  not  answer  the  spectral  being.  When 
I  saw  that  Elizabeth  no  longer  took  any  pleasure  in 
playing  the  piano  that  I  procured  from  abroad  in  our 
retirement,  and  asked  the  reason  of  it,  she  said, 
sadly,  '  Dearest,  if  I  do  not  wish  to  incur  deadly 
vexation,  I  must  no  longer  play/  i  How  so  ?  '  l  Be 
cause  Ernestine  has  flatly  forbidden  me.  She  says 
that  in  a  house  where  there  lives  such  an  accomplish- 


THE    KLAUSENBURG.  85 

ed  pianist  as  herself,  she  could  not  allow  any  one  else 
even  to  strike  a  note/  This  presumption  was  too 
much  for  my  patience.  I  ran  to  her  chamber  and 
asked  her  ironically  to  play  me  something,  since  she 
would  not  allow  any  one  else  to  touch  the  instru 
ment.  She  followed  me,  laughing  loudly  ;  and  truly 
she  played  in  such  a  masterly  style,  that  my  anger 
was  turned  into  admiration  and  rapture.  '  Well ! ' 
she  said,  gravely,  when  she  had  finished, '  one  may 
have  in  one's  own  house  all  enjoyments  for  which 
connoisseurs  would  travel  fifty  miles,  and  yet  one 
can  be  satisfied  with  such  bungling  and  such  ham 
mering  up  and  down  the  keys  with  clumsy  fingers. 
Oh  !  fools  and  idiots,  who,  rogues  as  they  are,  talk 
of  art  and  only  mean  vapor :  they  can  only  sip  the 
nectar,  and  the  wonderful  becomes  but  trash  in  their 
rude  hands.  If  I  did  not  feel  a  constant  disgust  for 
life,  if  men  were  not  repulsive  to  me,  I  should  never 
cease  laughing/  From  that  time  she  often  joined 
in  our  music,  at  most  permitting  Elizabeth  and  my 
self  to  sing,  though  she  maintained  that  we  possessed 
neither  school  nor  method.  Thus  the  winter  passed 
away.  I  was  already  poor,  and  with  the  prospect  of 
being  reduced  quite  to  beggary  ;  Elizabeth  was  sickly, 
and  the  serenity  of  rny  life  was  gone. 

"  It  was  almost  to  be  called  a  relief  to  our  existence, 
when  on  the  approach  of  spring,  Ernestine  became 
ill,  and  was  shortly  so  much  worse  that  she  could 
not  leave  her  bed.  She  grew  more  irritable  as  her 


00  THE    TOKEN. 

illness  increased,  and  nothing  vexed  her  more  than 
that  she  could  not  visit  the  Klausenburg,  of  which 
she  had  become  so  fond.  One  warm  day  I  sent  her 
in  the  carriage,  she  searched  long  in  the  rooms,  loiter 
ed  among  the  shurhs  and  ruins,  and  returned  much 
worse  than  before.  It  was  now  evident  that  she 
could  not  recover.  The  physician  said  that  he  could 
not  understand  her  disease,  nor  the  state  of  the  suf 
ferer,  for  the  vital  powers  were  so  strong  in  her,  that 
all  the  symptoms  usually  indicating  death  did  not 
show  themselves,  and  there  was  a  probability  of  her 
speedy  recovery  ;  in  few  days,  however,  he  gave  up 
all  hope. 

"  We  now  really  looked  forward  to  a  quieter  fu 
ture.  Although  we  felt  pity  for  the  unhappy  being, 
yet  we  could  not  deny  that  she  had  a  disturbing  effect 
on  our  life  and  the  happiness  of  our  love.  We  heard 
that  she  was  near  death,  but  as  she  had  arranged  with 
her  doctor  and  nurse  that  we  should  not  disturb 
her,  we  had  kept  away.  All  of  a  sudden  she  much 
desired  to  see  me,  but  requested  that  Elizabeth 
should  not  be  present.  I  went,  and  said  as  I  entered  : 
'  Dear  friend,  you  will  doubtless  be  kind  enough  to 
give  me  back  the  documents  which  you  took  from 
my  escrutoire  to  vex  me/  She  looked  at  me  signi 
ficantly  with  her  dying  eyes,  which  now  seemed 
larger  and  sparkled  brighter  than  formerly.  There 
was  something  so  singular,  bright  and  glaring  in  her 
look,  that  any  one  having  witnessed  it  would  never 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  87 

wish  to  see  any  thing  more  terrible  and  inconceivable. 
After  a  pause  she  said  :  '  Brother,  do  these  foolish 
trifles  still  occupy  your  head  ?  Yet  it  is  no  wonder, 
every  one  lives  as  he  can.  Sit  down,  my  friend/  she 
continued,  with  an  air  of  contempt ;  I  complied, 
and  sat  down  by  her  bed. 

" '  You  fancy/  she  now  began  in  a  repulsive, 
cutting  tone,  '  you  will  get  rid  of  me  ;  but  do  not 
deceive  yourself  by  flattering  yourself  too  soon  with 
such  an  idea.  Death,  life,  non-existence,  continua 
tion  !  what  useless,  unmeaning  words  !  When  I 
had  scarcely  passed  my  childhood,  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  men,  if  I  saw  them  fretting  about  con 
tinued  existence  after  death.  They  drag  in  and 
heap  up  like  towers,  proof  after  proof,  probabilities 
and  wishes,  entreaties,  prayers,  and  the  mercy  of 
the  Almighty ;  they  talk  of  many  fine  talents  which 
cannot  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  as  they  call  it,  be 
possibly  perfected,  much  less  brought  to  maturity, 
— and  all  these  preparations  are  but  to  hush  their 
base  cowardice  and  fear  of  death.  Poor  wretches ! 
If  I  collect  myself,  become  conscious  of  my  various 
energies  in  every  direction,  and  then  call  to  eternity, 
to  the  Creator  and  the  millions  of  spirits  of  the  past 
and  the  future,  I  will  be  immortal !  I  will ! — what 
more  is  necessary,  and  what  omnipotence  can  inter 
fere  to  destroy  my  eternal,  almighty  will  ?  What 
further  security  of  being  immortal  and  eternal  does 
the  man  want  who  has  any  consciousness  ?  How 


00  THE    TOKEN. 

and  in  what  manner,  that  is  another  question.  What 
farce  we  shall  then  play,  what  mask,  what  party- 
colored  wig,  what  gibbous  labyrinth  of  entrails  we 
shall  then  possess,  what  etiquette  and  court  taste 
of  ugliness  and  beauty  will  then  be  introduced,  is 
uncertain.  But,  my  good  friends,  as  my  own  power, 
without  any  thing  more,  preserves  me  immortal, 
the  same  energy  and  free-will  may  bring  me  back 
to  you  whenever  and  as  often  as  I  like.  Believe 
me,  ye  fools,  these  spectres,  as  you  call  them,  are  not 
exactly  the  worst  or  weakest  spirits.  Many  a  one 
would  fain  return,  but  he  has  as  little  individual 
character  there  as  here,  and  hence  the  impossibility 
of  doing  so.  And  to  you, — you  paragon,  rogue, 
vain,  amiable  character,  full  of  talents,  you  bud  of 
virtue,  you  barterer  of  beauty,  whom  I  was  com 
pelled  to  love  so  intensely,  yea,  compelled  despite 
of  my  inmost  soul,  which  told  me  that  you  did  not 
deserve  it, — to  you,  smooth  skinned,  straight  grown, 
human  animal,  I  shall  ever  be  quite  near,  believe 
me.  For  this  love  arid  jealousy,  this  rage  after  you 
and  your  breathing,  and  conversation,  will  urge  me 
to  the  earth,  and  this  will  be,  as  the  pious  would 
say,  my  purgatory.  Therefore,  no  leave-taking  ;  we 
shall  meet  again  ! '  Thus  saying  she  offered  me  her 
cold,  dead  hand.. 

"  When  life  was  extinct  I  returned  to  Elizabeth, 
but  took  care  not  to  communicate  any  thing  of  the 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  89 

frantic  ravings  of  the  deceased,  as  her  nerves  were 
already  excited  by  great  anxiety,  and  she  often  suf 
fered  from  spasms. 

"  We  now  lived  in  still  retirement  in  a  rural 
solitude,  which,  in  spite  of  our  reduced  finances, 
might  have  become  delightful  had  I  not  remarked 
that  the  morbid  and  melancholy  mood  of  Elizabeth 
was  on  the  increase.  She  became  pale  and  wasted, 
and  I  often  found  her  weeping  when  entering  her 
chamber  unexpectedly.  When  I  asked  her  the 
reason  of  this,  she  told  me  she  knew  not  herself 
what  was  the  matter  with  her,  that  she  always  felt 
sorrowful  without  being  able  to  say  why  :  that 
when  she  was  alone  she  felt  quite  awed,  it  seemed 
so  terrible  to  her  that  her  sister  had  been  obliged  to 
end  her  existence  in  such  a  frantic  passion,  and  that 
often  when  entering  or  sitting  alone  in  her  chamber, 
it  was  as  if  Ernestine  stood  near  her  ;  she  fancied 
she  heard  her  singing,  felt  her  breath,  and  her 
looks  appeared  to  force  themselves  through  the 
empty  air. 

"  I  quieted  her,  left  her  rarely  by  herself,  read 
to  her,  we  took  walks  together,  and  sometimes  paid 
visits  to  our  acquaintance  in  the  neighborhood.  As 
she  became  calmer  she  recovered  by  degrees  her  na 
turally  beautiful  complexion.  Feeling  once  unwell, 
and  lying  comfortably  stretched  out  on  the  sofa, 
while  she  was  reading  an  interesting  story  to  me,  I 
said,  *  how  beautiful  and  melodious  is  your  voice  • 
4* 


90  THE    TOKEN. 

will  you  not  sing  again  for  once  ?  For  a  long  time 
you  have  not  opened  your  music  books,  your  instru 
ment  is  locked,  and  your  beautiful  fingers  will  at 
length  become  quite  stiff/ 

"'  You  know/  she  replied,  '  that  a  few  mouths 
ago  my  sister  flatly  forbade  me  to  practise  music  ; 
we  were  obliged  to  concede  to  her  ill  health,  and  thus 
I  have  become  quite  out  of  practice/ 

"  i  Sing  now/  I  cried,  '  the  delight  will  be  the 
greater  to  me  for  its  novelty  ! ' 

"  We  looked  out  a  cheerful,  pleasing  piece  of 
music,  to  avoid  any  thing  melancholy,  and  Elizabeth 
poured  forth,  with  a  truly  heavenly  voice,  the  clear 
light  tones,  which  thrilled  bliss  into  my  heart. 
Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  was  again  seized  with 
that  violent  hysteric  fit  of  weeping  which  had  so 
often  terrified  me.  'I  cannot/  she  cried,  deeply 
moved,  'all  these  sounds  rise  up  before  me  like 
fiends  ;  I  always  feel  my  sister  quite  near  me  ;  her 
dress  rustling  against  mine,  and  her  anger  terrifies 
me/  I  felt  clearly  that  my  peace  of  mind  as  well 
as  hers  was  destroyed. 

"  Oar  physician,  a  veiy  judicious  man,  and  a 
friend  of  ours,  when  she  confessed  all  these  feelings, 
her  trembling,  and  the  anxiety  which  almost  inces 
santly  preyed  on  her  and  undermined  her  health,  ap 
plied  every  remedy  to  calm  her,  physically  and  men 
tally.  This  honest  and  judicious  persuasion  had  a 
good  effect,  and  his  medicines  proved  salutary.  When 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  91 

summer  came  we  were  much  in  the  open  air.  We 
were  once  taking  a  drive  to  the  estate  of  an  acquaint 
ance,  who  told  us  that  he  intended  to  give  a  musical 
festival,  composed  of  friends  and  some  virtuosi.  My 
wife's  great  talent  for  music  being  known,  we  were 
invited,  and  she  promised  to  play  and  sing ;  being 
then  surrounded  by  strangers,  flattered  by  both  sexes 
and  in  a  cheerful  mood.  I  was  the  more  rejoiced  at 
this,  as  our  physician  made  it  a  part  of  his  advice 
that  she  should  forcibly  combat  these  gloomy  feel 
ings  and  this  hypochondriacal  anxiety.  She  deter 
mined  to  follow  his  advice.  Much  pleased  and  re 
joiced,  we  returned  to  our  humble  residence.  Eliza 
beth  with  spirit  went  through  the  difficult  pieces 
of  music,  and  the  idea  that  she  might  in  this  way, 
perhaps,  recover  her  youthful  vigor,  delighted 
me. 

"  A  few  days  after  this,  while  I  was  reading  a 
letter,  that  had  just  arrived,  the  door  was  suddenly 
burst  open,  and  Elizabeth  rushed  in,  deadly  pale, 
and  fell  as  if  dead  in  my  arms.  c  What  is  the  mat 
ter  ?  '  I  cried,  seized  with  horror.  Her  eye  wan 
dered  wildly  round,  her  heart  palpitated  almost  to 
bursting,  and  she  was  some  time  before  she  regained 
her  voice  and  breath. 

"  (  Oh  !  heavens/  she  at  length  exclaimed,  every 
word  being  expressive  of  horror,  '  in  there,  while  I 
practised — in  a  cheerful  mood — I  accidentally  cast  a 
look  in  the  glass — and  I  saw  behind  me  Ernestine 


92  THE    TOKEN. 

looking  at  me  with  that  strange  smile,  and  having 
her  withered  arms  folded  across  her  chest.  I  know 
not  whether  she  is  still  there,  I  hardly  know  how  I 
reached  here/ 

"  I  gave  her  in  charge  of  her  maid  ;  she  retired, 
and  the  doctor  was  immediately  sent  for.  I  went 
into  the  other  room,  and  found  the  music  books 
scattered  under  the  instrument.  Elizabeth  must  have 
thrown  them  down  in  her  fright. 

"  '  Of  what  avail  are  reasoning,  joke,  and  conso 
lation,  diet  and  medicines  against  perfect  madness/ 
said  I  to  myself,  and  yet  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  words  with  which  her  dying  sister  had  threat 
ened  us. 

"  The  news  of  my  wife  having  been  taken  ill 
reached  our  friend's  ears,  and  was  likely  to  prevent 
the  musical  festival  taking  place.  His  wife  came  a 
few  days  afterwards  with  a  female  singer,  to  inquire 
after  Elizabeth's  health.  Not  having  said  any  thing, 
even  to  the  doctor,  of  the  apparition  which  my  wife 
imagined  she  had  seen,  we  of  course  did  not  mention 
this  singular  circumstance  to  our  visitors-  To  all  ap 
pearances  my  wife  having  quite  recovered  from  her 
fright,  we  walked  in  our  small  garden  with  our  friends 
conversing  about  the  festival,  and  the  baroness  and 
the  singer  at  length  proposed  to  practise  some  music 
in  my  wife's  presence,  that  they  might  have  her  opin 
ion,  though  she  might  not  be  able  to  join. 

"  We  therefore  returned  to  the  drawing-room. 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  93 

and  as  it  became  dark,  candles  were  lighted.  The 
singer  sat  at  the  instrument  to  accompany  herself, 
on  her  right  was  the  baroness,  I  was  just  behind,  and 
my  wife  was  on  her  left.  We  could  not  help  admiring 
the  voices  and  the  style  of  the  singers.  The  music 
by  degrees  became  more  animated  and  impassioned, 
and  I  had  once  already  omitted  turning  the  page, 
when,  just  as  the  next  leaf  was  played,  a  long  bony 
finger  appeared  on  it,  quickly  turned  the  leaf  at  the 
right  time,  and  the  melody  proceeded.  I  looked 
round,  and  beheld  the  terrible  Ernestine  standing 
close  by  me  behind  the  baroness  ;  I  know  not  how  I 
kept  my  composure,  but  I  looked  searchingly  and 
almost  unmoved  at  the  terrific  apparition.  She 
smiled  at  me  with  that  malicious  expression  which, 
even  when  living,  made  her  countenance  repelling. 
She  wore  her  usual  dress,  her  eyes  were  fiery,  and 
her  face  was  white  as  chalk.  I  felt  almost  a  satisfac 
tion  in  the  gloomy  sensation  of  awe,  remained  silent, 
and  was  glad  that  Elizabeth  did  not  perceive  the 
spirit.  Suddenly  there  was  a  shriek  of  terror,  and 
my  wife  fell  fainting  on  the  ground,  while  the  wither 
ed  finger  was  just  going  again  to  turn  the  page.  The 
music  of  course  ended,  my  wife  was  in  a  fever,  and 
our  friends,  who  had  not  seen  the  spectre,  returned 
home." 

Here  the  invalid  paused.  The  physician  looked 
significantly  at  me,  shaking  his  head. 

"  And  you  have/'  he  at  length  said,  "  never  be- 


94  THE    TOKEN. 

fore  told  your  present  doctor  any  thing  of  that  ap 
parition." 

"  No/'  replied  Francis,  "  you  may  call  it  shame, 
or  fear  of  his  cold,  searching  understanding  ;  you 
may  call  it  weakness  or  what  you  please  ;  suffice  it 
to  say,  I  could  not  prevail  on  myself  to  make  this  con 
fession." 

"  Bat  it  was  very  necessary,"  said  the  paysician, 
"for  how  could  he  judge  correctly  of  your  illness 
without  that  information  ?  " 

"  From  that  time,"  resumed  Fransis  in  a  faint 
voice,  "we  determined  to  quit  the  neighborhood,  in 
hopes  that  the  furious  spectre  would  not  follow  us 
beyond  the  mountains.  But  while  we  continued  in 
our  house  we  often  saw  her,  mostly  in  the  music-room. 
Our  doctor  being  with  us  one  morning,  he  sat  down  to 
the  instrument,  and  played  some  passages  extempore. 
Suddenly  the  terrible  spectre  again  stood  by  my 
wife's  chair,  and  laid  her  cold  withered  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  Hysterics  and  faintings  again  followed." 

"  And  did  your  doctor  see  it  also  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Francis,  "  she  appeared  behind  him, 
but  I  saw  her  distinctly  then,  as  I  often  did  after 
wards  by  broad  daylight.  We  had  only  to  touch 
the  keys  of  the  instrument,  when  she  immediately 
appeared,  so  that  to  strike  a  note  was  a  summons. 
When  I  once  revisited  the  ancient  Klausenburg,  I 
found  her  sitting  upon  a  stone  staring  at  me.  Thus 
persecuted,  terrified,  and  in  constant  fear  and  anx- 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  95 

iety,  we  have  become  ripe  for  death,  and  the  physician 
despairing  of  our  recovery,  advised  us  at  last  to  visit 
this  watering-place,  as  a  last  resource  for  restoring  our 
shattered  health.  But  hitherto  we  have  not  found 
any  beneficial  result.  And  who  can  assure  us  that 
the  spectre  may  not  here  haunt  us  also.  She  intends 
to  destroy  us,  and  the  most  inconceivable  things  are 
possible  to  her  strong  will.  I  believe  we  need  only 
sing  an  air,  or  play  a  sonata  even  at  this  distance,  and 
she  would  make  her  appearance." 

"  I  will  answer  for  that,  count/'  cried  the  doctor 
in  a  firm  voice,  "  our  faculty  knows  how  to  keep  such 
malicious  spirits  at  a  distance." 

Here  our  conversation  ended  ;  we  sent  the  pa 
tient  home  in  a  sedan  chair  to  his  hotel,  and  I  ac 
companied  the  physician. 

While  walking  in  the  quiet  of  night  through  the 
dark  avenues  of  trees,  he  said  to  me,  "  Dear  sir,  we 
are  too  much  excited  to  sleep,  favor  me  with  your 
company  to  my  lodging  ;  a  powerful  aromatic  car 
dinal*  will  keep  up  our  spirits,  and  I  will  there  tell 
you  my  opinion  respecting  our  two  invalids,  of  whose 
recovery,  after  what  I  have  heard,  I  no  longer  doubt. 
I  would  almost  promise  that  in  two  months  I  shall 
send  them  home  in  tolerably  good  health." 

I  was  astonished  at  this,  as  I  had  given  up  all 
hope  of  the  recovery  of  my  friends.  Our  strongly- 

*  A  beverage  usually  prepared  of  wine,  brandy,  sugar,  and  pine-ap 
ples,  or  other  fruit. 


96  THE    TOKEN. 

spiced  beverage  much  enlivened  us  ;  and  the  doctor 
continued  :  "  The  mental  disease  of  your  friend  is  to 
me  one  of  the  most  interesting  psycological  phenom 
ena  that  has  ever  passed  under  my  observation.  He, 
as  well  as  his  wife,  are  laboring  under  a  singular 
madness  ;  and  if  we  once  succeed  in  attacking  it 
rightly,  then  in  weakening,  and  finally  in  eradicating 
it  altogether,  the  physical  recovery  will  follow  of  it 
self.  Though  I  did  not  know  your  friend  formerly, 
yet,  from  his  communications,  I  can  exactly  and  truly 
construe  his  character  and  fate.  He  is  naturally 
good  and  tender,  the  latter  rather  preponderating  ; 
and,  like  most  men  of  this  disposition,  is  more  sub 
ject  to  vanity  than  those  of  firmer  character.  He 
has  been  handsome  and  amiable,  possessed  of  talents, 
and  persuasive  manners,  and  has,  therefore,  been 
everywhere  well  received,  so  that,  being  a  general 
favorite,  and  naturally  pliant,  he  may  have  turned 
the  head  of  many  a  pretty  girl.  Meeting,  at  last, 
with  his  beautiful  wife,  he  determined  to  change  his 
condition,  and  her  naturally  sensitive  and  nervous 
nature  was  delighted  to  call  so  amiable  a  gentleman 
her  husband.  And,  as  usually  happens  to  enthusi 
asts,  so  is  it  in  this  case  ;  they  do  not  find  in  mat 
rimony  that  transcendant  felicity  which  they  antici 
pated  ;  a  slight  discord  takes  possession  of  the  tender 
cords  of  the  nerves,  which  impatiently  look  forward 
to  new  vibrations.  The  ugly,  deformed  sister  felt, 
like  most  persons  of  the  sort,  jealousy  and  envy 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  97 

against  the  preferred,  flattered,  and  fondled  wife. 
She  plainly  showed  her  indignation,  and  confessed 
that  she  hated  the  count.  This  amiable  conqueror 
of  -hearts  now  employed  all  his  art  to  overcome  this 
hatred.  He  succeeded,  and  the  poor  deluded  crea 
ture  even  fancied  that  she  had  excited  his  affection, 
while  his  vanity  exulted  in  the  triumph.  This 
heartlessness  could  not  but  mortify  and  shock  the 
unfortunate  Ernestine.  An  inward  rage  consumed 
her,  she  fell  a  victim  to  her  unfortunate  passion  ; 
and,  dying,  she  uttered  the  menace  to  persecute 
them  in  every  possible  way.  This  is  plainly  mad 
ness.  This  madness,  as  has  often  been  observed,  is 
hereditary,  and  relations,  brothers,  sisters,  and  chil 
dren,  are  seized  with  it  whenever  it  is  manifested  in 
a  member  of  the  family.  So,  in  the  case  of  your 
friend.  Perhaps  the  affectionate  count  has  not  been 
quite  silent  on  the  subject  to  his  wife  ;  and  she  being 
already  in  a  delicate  state,  has  indulged  these  fancies, 
and  with  anxious  curiosity  pursues  the  gloomy  feel 
ings  produced  by  her  nerves.  Thus,  what  is  more 
natural  than  that  she  should  soon  find  an  occasion 
on  which  she  fancied  she  really  saw  her  sister  ?  The 
fears  of  his  wife  were  communicated  to  him,  anguish 
of  mind  at  his  misfortunes  heated  his  imagination, 
and  he  also  sees  the  apparition.  Thus  they  go  on, 
until  both  have  nearly  destroyed  themselves  by  a 
mere  phantom.  If  we  can  dissipate  this  phantom, 
they  may  be  restored  to  health." 


98  THE    TOKEN. 

"  Dear  doctor/'  I  replied,  "  I  know  not  whether 
I  have  a  particular  propensity  for  superstition,  but 
your  reasons  do  not  satisfy  me.  Much  that  has  been 
handed  down  both  by  tradition  and  writing,  on  this 
curious  subject,  cannot  be  mere  fancy  or  invention, 
however  much  our  reason  may  be  opposed  to  it. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  states  of  the  mind  and  of  the 
nerves,  as  well  as  diseases,  during  which  certain 
persons  see  what  is  veiled  from  all  others.  What  is 
spirit  ?  What  notions  does  this  word  suggest  ? 
Do  we  know  the  nature,  talent,  or  power,  which  these 
millions  of  differently  constituted  souls  possess,  after 
having  shaken  off  their  earthly  frame  ?  Do  we  know 
by  what  possibility  this  or  that  strong  mind,  by  the 
power  of  his  will,  or  anxious  repentance,  or  a  secret 
tormenting  yearning  after  home,  forms  from  his  im 
agination  a  visible  frame,  such  as  he  used  to  wear  ?  " 

"And  supposing  you  to  be  quite  right,  what 
would  you  profit  by  it  ?  "  exclaimed  the  zealous  doctor. 
"  If  any  one  who  is  in  a  discontented  mood,  or  state 
of  excitement,  sees  any  thing,  it  is,  indeed,  only  and 
always  his  own  fancies,  his  own  internal  phases,  which 
appear  before  his  bodily  eye.  This  may  happen  to 
any  one  at  times.  We  have  in  the  morning  a  vivid 
dream  ;  we  certainly  awake,  and  still,  for  a  moment, 
we  see  the  child  for  whom  we  yearned,  the  lily  or 
rose  which  delighted  us,  or  an  old  friend  who  is  a 
hundred  miles  distant.  Perhaps  it  never  yet  hap 
pened  that,  to  one  of  the  many  ghost-seers,  his  aged 


THE   KLAUSENBURG.  99 

father  or  grandfather  appeared  as  a  youth  or  bride 
groom,  the  murderer  as  a  boy  in  his  innocence,  the 
wild  spectre  of  an  aged  prisoner  as  a  blooming  virgin. 
Why,  then,  do  not  these  spectres,  for  once,  change 
their  shape  ?  " 

"  Because,"  rejoined  I,  "  they  perhaps  can  express 
their  imagination  only  in  the  last  state  immediately 
preceding  their  change." 

"Ah  !  this  is  idle,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  impa 
tiently  ;  "  yield  the  point  quietly  rather  than  vainly 
endeavor  to  refute  me.  Assist  me  rather  in  restoring 
your  friend." 

"  In  what  way  can  I  do  so  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  by  some  violent  means  that  a  happy 
beginning  can  be  made.  Believe  me,  in  the  deepest 
recesses  of  our  minds  there  are  still  growing  some 
weeds  of  vanity,  concerning  which  we  fondly  deceive 
ourselves,  by  fancying  that  the  external  surface  is 
the  proper  soil  for  them  to  luxuriate  in.  Even  in 
moments  of  terror,  in  the  horror  of  death,  or  during 
tormenting  disease,  we  are  tickled  by  the  conscious 
ness  that,  notwithstanding  these,  we  experience 
something  apart — that  we  see  apparitions  which 
awaken  anxiety.  Nay,  we  go  further  ;  we  wish  them, 
back  again,  and,  as  it  were,  call  them  forth  ;  our 
plastic  and  pliant  nature,  and  our  almost  incon 
ceivable  fancy  obey,  and  again  such  a  bugbear  is 
conjured  up.  Assist  me  then  in  persuading  and 
disposing  our  invalid  to  have  music  in  the  count's 


100  THE    TOKEN. 

or  your  own  apartments  ;  let  us  procure  an  instru 
ment,  and  as  the  countess  cannot  sing,  she  will  at 
least  play.  That  they  may  not  cause  an  excitement, 
should  they  again  be  seized  by  this  mania,  no  one 
but  yourself  and  I  must  be  present,  or  at  most  her 
attendant  in  case  of  a  relapse.  But  it  will  not 
happen  in  my  presence,  as  I  shall  have  my  quick 
eyes  everywhere.  By  these  means  our  patients  will 
gain  confidence  and  tranquillity,  and  by  a  daily  repe 
tition,  and  the  use  of  stronger  remedies,  we  shall 
cure  their  wild  fancies." 

"  And  if  not  ?  "  I  replied,  with  anxious  doubt. 

"  Well,  then,  by  heavens  !  "  he  replied,  with  a 
loud  laugh,  "if  I,  without  having  previously  taken 
too  much,  see  any  thing,  then — " 

"Then?" 

"  Then,  baron,  you  shall  call  me  a  fool,  which, 
viewed  in  the  proper  light,  we  are  all  by  nature." 

Thus  we  parted,  and  it  required  much  persua 
sion  to  prevail  upon  my  afflicted  friend  to  consent 
to  our  experiment.  His  wife,  to  my  astonishment, 
was  more  easily  persuaded.  She  said,  not  without 
reason,  "  I  feel  it,  my  life  is  drawing  to  a  close,  all 
help  is  vain  ;  the  nearer  death  is  the  better.  So 
much  the  better  if  a  new  terror  can  crush  me  like  a 
stroke  of  lightning.  And  if  the  event  which  I  an 
ticipate  does  not  take  place,  then  my  last  days  will 
at  least  be  free  from  this  fear  and  anxious  horror  ; 
I  shall  be  able  to  amuse  and  divert  myself,  and  it 


THE   KLAUSENBUKG. 


101 


remains  in  the  hand  of  Omnipotence  whether  I  and 
my  hushand  shall  have  further  hope  of  recovery." 

The  third  day  was  fixed  upon  for  music,  and  a 
late  hour  in  the  evening  was  appointed,  because  the 
countess,  like  most  persons  suffering  from  fever,  felt 
it  strongest  at  that  time,  and  would  thereby  shorten 
the  night,  as  she  seldom  slept  till  morning.  An 
instrument  had  been  placed  in  the  room  ;  more 
lights  than  were  required  were  burning,  and  the  ad 
joining  chamber  likewise  was  brilliantly  lighted,  in 
order  that  no  doubtful  shadow  might  be  produced 
in  the  dark.  Besides  the  easy  chair  and  sofa  in  the 
sitting-room,  there  was  a  couch,  on  which  the 
countess  reposed  in  the  day.  The  piano  was  placed 
against  the  wall,  between  two  windows,  looking 
over  the  garden  and  some  vineyards  beyond.  After 
tea,  the  door  being  locked,  the  waiter  and  servant 
were  dismissed  ;  no  one  remained  but  the  countess's 
attendant,  a  strong  young  woman,  whom  we  begged 
to  keep  up  her  spirits. 

The  countess  took  her  seat  at  the  instrument. 
The  doctor  stood  beside  her,  in  order  to  observe  her, 
as  well  as  to  overlook  both  rooms,  while  I  sat  and 
stood  alternately  on  the  other  side.  Francis,  in  his 
morning-gown  and  slippers,  walked  slowly  up  and 
down  behind  us,  and  the  attendant  leaned  against 
the  open  chamber-door. 

At  first  the  countess  played  faintly,  uncertainly, 
and  timidly.  But  by  degrees  the  beauty  of  the 


102  THE    TOKEN. 

composition,  and  the  consciousness  of  her  talent 
inspired  her,  and  she  played  with  precision  and  fire 
a  humorous  and  melodious  fantasia.  Her  eyes 
sparkled,  her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  a  smile,  full 
of  soul,  played  upon  her  once  beautiful  mouth.  The 
doctor  cast  a  triumphant  glance  at  me,  and  by  the 
strong  light,  the  mien  and  feature  of  every  one  in 
the  room  were  distinctly  visible.  All  praised  the 
performer,  and  the  doctor  gave  her  something  to 
revive  her.  She  was  as  if  inspired  with  new  life, 
and  confessed  that  she  had  not  felt  so  well  for  the 
last  year.  Poor  Francis  was  in  raptures,  and  his 
tearful  eyes  were  full  of  hope. 

With  the  same  arrangement  we  proceeded  to  the 
second  piece,  while  she  played  still  more  confidently, 
and  with  less  exertion.  Bravos  and  applause  ac 
companied  her — when  suddenly — a  terrible  shriek 
was  heard — how  shall  I  describe  it  ?  Never  were 
my  ears  rent  by  such  terrific  sounds — it  was  some 
time  after  that  I  perceived  that  Francis  had  uttered 
it — the  candles  burned  with  a  blue  flame,  but  yet 
there  was  light  enough. — And  what  a  spectacle  ! — 
Francis,  with  foaming  mouth,  and  eyes  starting 
from  their  sockets,  was  clasping  a  horrible  spectre  ; 
and  wrestled  with  the  withered  hideous  form.  "  You 
or  I,"  he  now  cried,  and  it  clasped  him  with  its 
bony  arms  so  firmly,  pressed  its  crooked  deformed 
body  so  strongly  against  his,  and  its  pale  face  so 
firmly  against  his  chest,  that  we  all  heard  how  in 


THE    KLAUSENBURG.  103 

this  struggle  his  bones  were  crashing.  The  attend 
ant  had  hastened  to  assist  the  countess,  who  had 
fainted.  The  doctor  and  myself  approached  the 
count,  just  as  he  threw  the  spectre  with  gigantic 
force  on  the  couch,  which  creaked  under  her.  He 
stood  erect.  It  lay  on  the  couch  like  a  cloud,  like 
a  dark  cover,  and  as  we  approached,  it  was  gone. 

Francis  now  felt  all  his  bones  broken,  his  last 
strength  was  annihilated.  In  three  days  he  was  no 
more,  and  the  physician  found  his  body  much 
bruised.  The  countess  never  recovered  from  her 
state  of  delirium,  and  two  days  afterwards  she  fol 
lowed  her  beloved  and  unfortunate  husband  to  his 
early  grave. 


AULD    ROBIN    GRAY. 

BY   LADY    ANNE   LINDSAY. 

WHEN  the  sheep  are  in  the  fauld,  and  the  kye  at 

hame, 

And  a7  the  warld  to  sleep  are  gane  ; 
The  waes  o'  my  heart  fa'  in  showers  frae  my  ee, 
When  my  guideman  lies  sound  by  me. 

Young  Jamie  loo'd  me  weil,  and  socht  me  for  his 

bride, 

But  saving  a  croun,  he  had  naething  else  beside  : 
To  make  that  croun  a  pund,  young  Jamie  gaed  to 

sea  ; 
And  the  croun  and  the  pund  were  baith  for  me. 

He  hadna  been  awa  a  week  but  only  twa, 

When  my  mother  she  fell  sick,  and  the  cow  was 

stown  awa ; 

My  father  brak  his  arm,  and  young  Jamie  at  the  sea, 
And  auld  Robin  Gray  cam  a  courtin'  me. 


AULD   ROBIN  GRAY.  105 

My  father  couldna  work;  and  my  mother  couldna 

spin; 

I  toiled  day  and  nicht,  but  their  bread  I  couldna  win ; 
Auld  Rob  maintained  them  baith,  and  wi'  tears  in 

his  ee, 
Said,  Jennie,  for  their  sakes,  oh,  marry  me. 

My  heart,  it  said  nay,  for  I  looked  for  Jamie  back ; 
But  the  wind  it  blew  high,  and  the  ship  it  was  a 

wreck : 

The  ship  it  was  a  wreck — why  didna  Jamie  dee  ? 
Or  why  do  I  live  to  say,  Wae's  me. 

My  father  argued  sair  :  my  mother  didna  speak  ; 
But  she  lookit  in  my  face  till  my  heart  was  like  to 

break ; 
Sae  they  gied  him  my  hand,  though  my  heart  was 

in  the  sea  ; 
And  auld  Robin  Gray  was  gudeman  to  me. 

I  hadna  been  a  wife,  a  week  but  only  four, 
When,  sitting  sae  mournfully  at  the  door, 
I  saw  my  Jamie's  wraith,  for  I  couldna  think  it  he, 
Till  he  said,  I'm  come  back  for  to  marry  thee. 

Oh,  sair  did  we  greet,  and  mickle  did  we  say  ; 
We  took  but  ae  kiss,  and  we  tore  ourselves  away  ; 
I  wish  I  were  deid,  but  I'm  no  like  to  dee  ; 
And  why  do  I  live  to  say,  Wae's  me  ! 
6 


106  THE    TOKEN. 

I  gang  like  a  ghaist,  and  I  carena  to  spin  : 
I  darena  think  on  Jamie,  for  that  wad  be  a  siri ; 
But  I'll  do  my  best,  a  gudewife  to  be, 
For  auld  Kobin  Gray  is  kind  unto  me. 


'if  JiOS 


THE   MAGICIAN. 

A    HARZ    STORY. 

IN  a  small  town  which  possessed  the  right  of  hold 
ing  criminal  courts  there  was  once  a  famous  Magician 
caught,  the  country  being  at  that  time  infested  with 
such  sort  of  people.  He  had  been  forced  to  make  a 
free  confession  of  his  crimes  by  torture  ;  and  there 
fore  the  court  found  itself  at  full  liberty  to  sentence 
the  wicked  wretch  to  be  burned  alive. 

The  day  fixed  upon  for  the  execution  drew  nigh  ; 
the  pile  stood  already  erected  before  one  of  the  gates, 
and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  adjoining  country  were 
impatiently  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  hour  of  exe 
cution,  for  the  little  town  had  never  been  so  dull  and 
desolate  as  for  some  months  before.  During  all  that 
period  they  had  neither  drowned  a  single  witch,  nor 
even  flogged  a  pickpocket  :  so  the  whole  country  had 
been  longing  for  an  execution  to  diversify  the  monot 
ony  of  their  existence,  and  now  hands  and  feet  got 
enlivened,  and  for  several  days  all  who  could  wag 
their  tongues  talked  of  nothing  but  the  burning  of 


108  THE   TOKEN. 

the  Magician,  and  all  who  could  move  their  limbs 
skipped  twice  a-day  round  the  pile. 

Well,  the  great  day  arrived.  Long  before  dawn 
hundreds  of  small  wagons  came  pouring  into  the 
city  from  fifty  miles  of  the  surrounding  country,  and 
swelled  the  numerous  company  who  had  arrived  the 
night  before  and  were  spending  the  time  till  the 
hour  of  execution  in  various  gossip.  With  daybreak 
all  was  crowd  and  bustle  in  the  town ;  and  in  less 
than  half  an  hour  street  and  houses  were  deserted, 
and  the  large  field  around  the  pile  so  crowded  with 
spectators,  that  had  one  tossed  an  apple  into  it,  it 
could  not  have  reached  the  ground.  Every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  the  pile,  and  upon  the  motions  of  the 
executioner  and  his  assistants  ;  while  from  time  to 
time  a  distant  observer  heard  a  loud  noise  resem 
bling  the  rushing  of  a  storm  through  a  pinewood, 
caused  by  the  rustling  of  the  crowd,  which  again  sunk 
down  into  an  awful  silence. 

During  one  of  these  pauses  a  gloomy  whispering 
was  heard3 — deep  gravity  spread  over  every  face, — 
and  after  the  lapse  of  some  minutes,  a  universal 
shout  arose,  "The  Magician  has  escaped  !  " 

Nobody  could  believe  it, — nobody  could  think  it 
possible,  yet  every  one  shouted  it  the  louder  for  his 
disbelief,  and  thousands  were  about  to  run  off  to 
storm  the  prison  :  for  was  it  not  quite  insufferable 
thus  to.  have  their  excited  expectations  deceived, — 
to  have  been  kept  awake  the  whole  night  for  noth- 


THE   MAGICIAN.  109 

ing  t — to  have  endured  hunger  and  thirst,  and  all 
for  nothing  I 

A  wild  outcry  of  fury  and  rage  was  already 
heard  throughout  the  field,  when  the  judges  made 
their  appearance,  and  partly  to  confirm  the  sad  news 
that  the  impatient  criminal  had  not  chosen  to  await 
his  burning,  and  partly  with  the  prudential  motive 
of  saving  themselves  from  a  shower  of  stones,  desired 
the  whole  assembly  to  pursue  the  Magician,  who 
must  undoubtedly,  as  they  affirmed,  still  be  lurking 
about  the  neighborhood,  and  could  not  escape  the 
scrutiny  of  so  many  thousand  eyes.  They  also  in 
vited  the  whole  assembly  to  attend  on  the  following 
day  at  a  still  more  solemn  execution  of  the  wizard. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  whole  crowd  were 
in  motion,  galloping  over  and  against  one  another 
with  as  much  confusion  as  ever  distracted  Babel. 
Not  a  few  were  induced  by  the  mischances  they  met 
with  to  desist  from  the  chase,  and  took  their  way 
back  to  the  town  in  no  very  good  humor,  though 
not  quite  without  hope  ;  but  hundreds  of  them  scat 
tered  themselves  over  the  country  in  search  of  the 
Magician. 

The  constables,  well-provided  with  arms,  hasten 
ed,  according  to  orders,  towards  a  wood  where  it  was 
thought  the  criminal  could  most  easily  hide  him 
self.  On  the  road  thither  they  met  a  man  with  a 
long  beard,  whom  they  at  first  took  for  a  wandering 
Jew,  and  accompanied  part  of  the  way  to  learn  if  he 


110  THE  TOKEN. 

could  give  them  any  information  about  the  Magician. 
Hereupon  the  stranger  showed  them  a  bow  and  an 
arrow,  and  assured  them  that  he  never  failed  in  shoot 
ing  with  them,  and  could  with  these  weapons  keep 
off  a  thousand  enemies.  The  constables  stared  upon 
him,  and  fancying  that  they  could  perceive  the  fea 
tures  of  the  Magician  under  the  mask  of  the  Jew, 
began  to  tremble  in  all  their  limbs  ;  the  wish  to  lead 
him  back  in  triumph  to  the  town  struggled  with 
their  fear  of  the  enchanted  arrow  ;  but  all  of  them 
fell  a  few  inches  aside  at  every  step,  and  thus  a  wide 
circle  was  gradually  formed  around  the  pretended 
Jew. 

He  looked  around  him  and  discovered  a  falcon 
soaring  high  in  the  air  above  him  ;  it  now  appeared 
like  a  little  black  speck  in  the  heavens,  but  he  bent 
his  bow  and  presently  the  bird  fell  transfixed  by  the 
arrow,  into  a  marshy  ditch  all  overgrown  with  thorns. 
"  Fetch  me  the  falcon  and  my  arrow ! "  called  he 
out  with  a  commanding  voice  to  the  constables,  who 
hesitated  long,  but  at  last  the  terror  with  which  his 
voice  inspired  them  conquered,  and  one  of  them  pro 
ceeded  with  faltering  steps  towards  the  place  where 
the  bird  lay.  Whilst  he  was  yet  picking  his  way 
over  the  marsh,  the  archer  drew  a  little  whistle  out 
of  his  pocket  and  commenced  playing  a  waltz,  when 
lo !  the  poor  fellow  began  to  waltz  about,  and  stretched 
out  his  hands  as  if  to  invite  his  companions,  who 
stood  gaping  in  astonishment  upon  him,  to  join  him  I 


THE   MAGICIAN.  Ill 

Presently  they  all  rushed  like  mad  people  into  the 
marsh,  where  they  danced  and  waltzed  till  their  senses 
reeled,  and  their  hands  and  feet  were  grievously  torn 
by  the  briers.  Often  they  implored  the  Magician  to 
spare  them,  and  to  allow  them  a  little  respite  ;  and 
at  last,  when  their  strength  was  nearly  utterly  ex 
hausted,  he  ceased  to  play^  and  they  left  off  dancing. 

All  breathless  and  exhausted  they  crept  out  from 
among  the  thorns  and  the  marsh  ;  but  one  of  the 
constables  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  left,  secret 
ly  to  carry  off  the  arrow  and  the  bird  along  with  him. 

The  archer  received  them  laughing ;  he  now  wore 
another  beard  and  garment,  and  no  longer  seemed 
a  Jew,  but  in  truth  the  very  Magician  they  were 
in  search  of.  ' (  Do'you  not  know  me  ?  "  inquired  he. 
"  You  were  all  active  enough,  however,  in  torturing 
me  ;  and  this  morning  you  would  doubtless  have 
been  very  well  pleased  to  have  assisted  at  my  burn 
ing.  The  pile  is  yet  standing,  and  you  wish  to  pre 
pare  for  to-morrow  the  feast  which  has  been  spoiled 
in  the  cooking  to-day  ;  well,  I  will  return  with  you, 
provided  you  will  promise  to  dance  to  my  whistle,  for 
I  suppose  you  are  come  to  fetch  me  back." 

The  constables  could  not  deny  it ;  but  declined 
very  earnestly  the  honor  of  invitation  to  the  dance. 
Their  protestations  were,  however,  of  no  avail  ;  the 
Magician  took  his  whistle,  and  they  felt  themselves 
constrained  to  obey.  Fortunately  he  was  this  time 


112  THE   TOKEN. 

content  with  playing  a  slow  Polonese,  and  thus  they 
escaped  skin-free  for  the  present. 

When  they  reached  the  field  before  the  town,  the 
Magician  greeted  the  executioner,  who,  happy  at  the 
return  of  the  Magician,  but  not  without  considerable 
sensations  of  alarm,  made  what  arrangements  he 
could,  by  beckonings  and  signs,  to  prevent  the  crim 
inal  again  escaping. 

The  Magician  mounted  the  pile,  and  sat  very 
contentedly  down  upon  it :  upon  which  the  consta 
bles  hastened,  as  fast  as  their  weary  feet  could  carry 
them,  into  the  town  to  proclaim  the  unheard  news, 
their  own  great  deeds,  and  the  deliverance  of  the 
country.  They  proceeded,  attended  by  a  crowd  of 
many  thousands  to  the  court-house,  where  the  tri 
bunal  was  yet  assembled,  and  with  loud  complaints 
brought  forth  fresh  accusations  against  the  knave,  who, 
in  their  persons,  had  affronted  the  whole  citizens. 
They  were  complimented  on  their  good  services — the 
arrow  was  placed  as  a  corpus  delicti  among  the  crim 
inal  proceedings — and  as  there  seemed  to  be  some 
difficulty  in  keeping  the  rogue  in  prison,  it  was  re 
solved  to  fire  the  pile  without  farther  delay  :  espe 
cially  as  the  auspicious  burning  of  the  Magician  had 
been  already  engrossed  in  the  protocol  of  the  pro 
ceedings  as  having  happened  that  day,  and,  accord 
ing  to  an  ancient  and  wise  law,  nothing  which  had 
once  been  recorded  could  be  afterwards  altered  in 
any  wise. 


THE   MAGICIAN.  113 

Three  councillors  marched  in  solemn  and  high 
judicial  array,  to  the  pile,  with  the  constables,  pre 
ceded  by  the  assistants  of  the  executioner  bearing 
burning  torches,  and  followed  by  all  the  people, 
who  had  remained  in  the  town,  in  expectation  of  the 
issue. 

When  they  approached  the  gate  they  heard 
from  afar  a  shouting  of  ten  thousand  tipsy  people  ; 
and  soon,  oh  marvellous  !  their  own  feet  began  to 
skip  under  them,  and  skipping  they  went  out  at  the 
gate,  and  saw  a  numberless  crowd  of  spectators, 
every  instant  swelled  by  the  crowds  which  streamed 
towards  them,  all  leaping  with  the  greatest  exertion 
around  the  pile. 

Upon  the  pile  stood  the  Magician — to  whose 
whistle  they  danced — beating  time  with  his  feet. 
All  danced  who  had  feet  to  dance, — children,  and 
grandmothers, — and  grave-looking  men  who  never 
had  dreamed  of  dancing  in  their  lives  before, — and 
old  men,  and  nuns,  and  noble  knights,  and  fish- 
women — all  in  the  most  motley  crowd.  Sometimes 
the  Magician  led  them  through  a  reel,  and  some 
times  through  a  waltz, — now  he  allowed  them  to 
recover  breath  in  a  minuet, — and  presently  he  set 
them  a-dancing  with  increased  vigor  at  a  Swabian  jig 
or  a  Cosaque  ;  even  the  executioner  and  his  assist 
ants  were  footing  it  upon  the  pile  itself,  and  streams 
of  perspiration  flowed  down  their  limbs  at  every  saut 
perilleux. 
6* 


114  THE  TOKEN. 

The  torch-bearers  also  approached  dancing,  their 
leader  incessantly  calling  out : 

"  Lack-a-day  1     Lack-a-day !     Did  not  I  say : 
"  '  Let  not  the  rogue  take  his  whistle  away !  ' " 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  shouted  the  Magician,  mak 
ing  a  short  pause  in  his  playing — welcome  relief  to 
the  feet  of  the  dancers — when  he  saw  the  van  ap 
proaching  with  the  torches  intended  to  light  the 
pile :  "  Bravo  !  Bravo  !  Now  comes  the  torch- 
dance.*  Courage  1  Courage  !  The  torch-bearers 
first ;  and  after  them  every  one  of  you  according  to 
his  dignity  1  Only  a  few  hours  more  of  it !  But 
you  must  sing  also." 

Instantly  all  the  thousands  who  were  dancing 
around  the  Magician  began  to  sing  : 

"  Lack-a-day !     Lack-a-day !     Did  not  I  say  : 
"  '  Let  not  the  rogue  take  his  whistle  away ! ' " 

"  Da  Capo !  Da  Capo ! "  exclaimed  the  remorse- 

*  The  torch-dance  seems  to  have  had  its  origin  in  a  custom  of 
the  Greeks— afterwards  adopted  by  the  Romans — who  had  a  torch 
carried  before  the  bride,  at  their  weddings,  by  a  youth  representing 
the  god  Hymen.  Constantino  introduced  the  torch-dance  at  his  own 
court,  when  he  transferred  his  residence  from  Rome  to  Byzantium.  It 
was  consequently  known  in  the  14th  century  as  a  court  and  ceremoni 
ous  dance.  In  later  times  it  became  a  part  of  the  merriments  with 
which  emperors  and  kings  celebrated  their  weddings;  and  when 
tournaments  had  ceased,  the  torch-dance  yet  remained  as  a  memo 
rial  of  ancient  times.  The  torch-dance  was  solemnly  danced  at 
Berlin  on  the  recent  occasion  of  an  illustrious  marriage. 


THE   MAGICIAN.  115 

less  Magician ;  and  every  body  screamed  and  danced, 
and  danced  and  screamed,  till  one  sank  here,  and 
another  there,  perfectly  exhausted,  and  yet  again 
leaped  up  and  danced  more  furiously  than  ever. 

Forgotten  was  prison  and  execution.  They 
danced  till  deep  in  the  night,  and  in  the  morning — 
each  one  lay  groaning  in  his  bed, — and  Magician, 
and  arrow,  and  pile  had  vanished  1 


THE  TWO  PATHS. 

i. 

THE  paths  of  life  are  rudely  laid 

Beneath  the  blaze  of  burning  skies  ; 
Level  and  cool,  in  cloistered  shade, 

The  church's  pavement  lies. 
Along  the  sunless  forest  glade 

Its  gnarled  roots  are  coiled  like  crime  ; 
Where  grows  the  grass  with  freshening  blade, 

Thine  eyes  may  track  the  serpent's  slime  ; 
But  there  thy  steps  are  unbetrayed, 

The  serpent  waits  a  surer  time. 

ii. 
The  fires  of  earth  are  fiercely  blent, 

Its  suns  arise  with  scorching  glow ; 
The  church's  light  hath  soft  descent, 

And  hues  like  God's  own  bow. 
The  brows  of  men  are  darkly  bent, 

Their  lips  are  wreathed  with  scorn  and  guile  ; 
But  pure,  and  pale,  and  innocent, 

The  looks  that  light  the  marble  aisle — 
From  angel  eyes,  in  love  intent, 

And  lips  of  everlasting  smile. 


CD  (Drums  sill 


"New  York  D.Appleton.  *  Co.  346  *  ,'i48  Broad-way . 


THE   TWO   PATHS.  117 

III. 

Lady,  the  fields  of  earth  are  wide, 

And  tempt  an  infant's  foot  to  stray  : 
Oh  !  lead  thy  loved  one's  steps  aside, 

Where  the  white  altar  lights  his  way. 
Around  his  path  shall  glance  and  glide 

A  thousand  shadows  false  and  wild  ; 
Oh  !  lead  him  to  that  surer  Guide 

Than  sire  serene,  or  mother  mild, 
Whose  Childhood  quelled  the  age  of  pride, 

Whose  Godhead  called  the  little  child. 

IV. 

So,  when  thy  breast  of  love  untold, 

That  warmed  his  sleep  of  infancy, 
Shall  only  make  the  marble  cold 

Beneath  his  aged  knee, 
From  its  steep  throne  of  heavenly  gold, 

Thy  soul  shall  stoop  to  see 
His  grief,  that  cannot  be  controlled, 

Turning  to  God  from  thee — 
Cleaving  with  prayer  the  cloudy  fold, 

That  veils  the  Sanctuary. 

J.  K. 

Christ  Church,  Oxford. 


THE    JESUITS'    CHURCH. 

AN    ART    TALE. 

BY  E.    T.    W.    HOFFMANN. 

IF,  gentle  reader,  you  were  ever  compelled  to  stop 
three  days  in  a  little  town,  where  you  did  not  know 
a  soul,  but  were  forced  to  remain  a  stranger  to  ev 
ery  body,  and  if  some  deep  pain  did  not  destroy  the 
inclination  for  social  converse,  you  will  be  able  to 
appreciate  my  annoyance.  In  words  alone  does  the 
spirit  of  life  manifest  itself  in  all  around  us;  but  the 
inhabitants  of  your  small  towns  are  like  a  secluded 
orchestra,  which  has  worked  into  its  own  way  of  play 
ing  and  singing  by  hard  practice,  so  that  the  tone  of 
the  foreigner  is  discordant  to  their  ears,  and  at  once 
puts  them  to  silence.  I  was  walking  up  and  down  my 
room,  in  a  thorough  ill-humor,  when  it  at  once  struck 
me  that  a  friend  at  home,  who  had  once  passed  two 

years  at  G ,  had  often  spoken  of  a  learned,  clever 

man,  with  whom  he  had  been  intimate.  His  name, 
I  recollected,  was  Aloysius  Walter,  professor  at  the 
Jesuits'  college.  I  now  resolved  to  set  out,  and  turn 
my  friend's  acquaintance  to  my  own  advantage. 


THE  Jl  SUITS'   CHURCH.  119 

They  told  me  at  the  college  that  Professor  Walter 
was  lecturing,  but  would  soon  have  finished,  and  as 
they  gave  me  the  choice  of  calling  again  or  waiting 
in  the  outer  rooms,  I  chose  the  latter.  The  cloisters, 
colleges,  and  churches  of  the  Jesuits  are  every  where 
built  in  that  Italian  style  which,  based  upon  the 
antique  form  and  manner,  prefers  splendor  and  ele 
gance  to  holy  solemnity  and  religious  dignity.  In 
this  case  the  lofty,  light,  airy  halls  were  adorned 
with  rich  architecture,  and  the  images  of  saints, 
which  were  here  placed  against  the  walls,  between 
Ionic  pillars,  were  singularly  contrasted  by  the  carv 
ing  over  the  doorways,  which  invariably  represent 
ed  a  dance  of  genii,  or  fruit  and  the  dainties  of  the 
kitchen. 

The  professor  entered — I  reminded  him  of  my 
friend,  and  claimed  his  hospitality  for  the  period  of 
my  forced  sojourn  in  the  place.  I  found  him  just  as 
my  friend  had  described  him  ;  clear  in  his  discourse, 
acquainted  with  the  world,  in  short,  quite  in  the 
style  of  the  higher  class  priest,  who  has  been  scien 
tifically  educated,  and  peeping  over  his  breviary  into 
life,  has  often  sought  to  know  what  is  going  on  there. 
When  I  found  his  room  furnished  with  modern  ele 
gance,  I  returned  to  my  former  reflections  in  the 
halls,  and  uttered  them  to  the  professor  aloud. 

"You  are  right,"  said  he,  "we  have  banished 
from  our  edifices  that  gloomy  solemnity,  that  strange 
majesty  of  the  crushing  tyrant,  who  oppresses  our 


120  THE   TOKEN. 

bosoms  in  Gothic  architecture,  and  causes  a  certain 
unpleasant  sensation,  and  we  have  very  properly 
endowed  our  works  with  the  lively  cheerfulness  of  the 
ancients." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  does  not  that  sacred  dignity, 
that  lofty  majesty  of  Gothic  architecture  which 
seems,  as  it  were,  striving  after  Heaven,  proceed 
from  the  true  spirit  of  Christianity,  which,  supersen- 
sual  itself,  is  directly  opposed  to  that  sensual  spirit 
of  the  antique  world  which  remains  in  the  circle  of 
the  earthly  ?  " 

The  professor  smiled.  "  The  higher  kingdom," 
said  he,  "  should  be  recognised  in  this  world,  and  this 
recognition  can  be  awakened  by  cheerful  symbols, 
such  as  life — nay,  the  spirit  which  descends  from 
that  kingdom  into  earthly  life — presents.  Our  home 
is  above,  but  while  we  dwell  here,  our  kingdom  is  of 
this  world  also." 

"  Ay,"  thought  I,  "  in  every  thing  that  you  have 
done  you  have  indeed  shown  that  your  kingdom 
is  of  this  world — nay,  of  this  world  only  ;  "  but  I  did 
not  communicate  my  thoughts  to  Professor  Aloysius 
Walter,  who  proceeded  thus  : 

"  What  you  say  of  the  magnificence  of  our  build 
ings  in  this  place  can  only  refer  properly  to  the 
pleasant  appearance  of  the  form.  Here,  where  we 
cannot  afford  marble,  and  great  masters  in  painting 
will  not  work  for  us,  we  are — in  conformity  with  the 
modern  fashion — obliged  to  make  use  of  substitutes. 


CHURCH.  121 

If  we  get  as  high  as  polished  plaster  we  have  done 
a  great  deal,  and  our  different  kinds  of  marble  are 
often  nothing  more  than  the  work  of  the  painter. 
This  is  the  case  in  our  church,  which,  thanks  to  the 
liberality  of  our  patrons,  has  been  newly  decorated." 
I  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the  church  ;  the  pro 
fessor  led  me  down,  and  when  I  entered  the  Corinthian 
colonnade,  which  formed  the  nave  of  the  church,  I 
felt  the  pleasing — too  pleasing  impression  of  the 
graceful  proportions.  To  the  left  of  the  principal 
altar  a  lofty  scaffolding  had  been  erected,  upon  which 
a  man  stood,  who  was  painting  over  the  walls  in  the 
antique  style. 

"  Now  !  how  are  you  going  on,  Berthold  ?  "  cried 
the  professor. 

The  painter  turned  round  to  us,  but  immediately 
proceeded  with  his  work,  saying  in  an  indistinct,  and 
almost  inaudible  voice  :  "  Great  deal  of  trouble — 
crooked,  confused  stuff — no  rule  to  make  use  of — 
beasts — apes — human  faces — miserable  fool  that  I 
am!" 

These  last  words  he  cried  aloud  in  a  voice 
that  nothing  but  the  deepest  agony  working  in  the 
soul  could  produce.  I  felt  strangely  affected  ; — these 
words,  the  expression  of  face,  the  glance  which  he  had 
previously  cast  at  the  professor,  brought  before  my 
eyes  the  whole  struggling  life  of  an  unfortunate  artist. 
The  man  could  have  been  scarcely  more  than  forty 
years  old  ;  his  form,  though  disfigured  by  the  un- 


122  THE  TOKEN. 

seemly,  dirty  costume  of  a  painter,  had  something  in 
it  indescribably  noble,  and  deep  grief  could  only  dis 
color  his  face,  but  could  not  extinguish  the  fire  that 
sparkled  in  his  black  eyes.  I  asked  the  professor  for 
particulars  respecting  this  painter.  "  He  is  a  foreign 
artist,"  was  the  reply,  "  who  came  here  just  at  the 
time  when  the  repair  of  the  church  had  been  resolved 
upon.  He  undertook  the  work  we  offered  him  with 
pleasure,  and  indeed  his  arrival  was  for  us  a  stroke 
of  good  fortune,  since  neither  here  nor  for  a  great 
distance  round,  could  we  find  a  painter  so  admirably 
fitted  for  all  that  we  require.  Besides,  he  is  the 
most  good-natured  creature  in  the  world,  and  we 
all  love  him  heartily  :  for  that  reason  he  got  on  well 
in  our  college.  Besides  giving  him  a  considerable 
salary  for  his  work,  we  board  him,  which,  by  the 
way,  does  not  entail  a  very  heavy  burden  upon  us, 
for  he  is  abstemious  almost  to  excess,  though  per 
haps  it  may  accord  with  the  weakness  of  his  consti 
tution. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  he  seemed  to-day  so  peevish — 
so  irritable." 

"  That,"  replied  the  professor,  "  is  owing  to  a 
particular  cause.  But  let  us  look  at  some  fine  pic 
tures  on  the  side  altars,  which  by  a  lucky  chance 
we  obtained  some  time  ago.  There  is  only  a  single 
original — a  Domenichino — among  them,  the  rest 
are  by  unknown  masters  of  the  Italian  school ;  but 
if  you  are  free  from  prejudice,  you  will  be  forced  to 


CHURCH.  123 

confess  that  every  one  of  them  might  bear  the  most 
celebrated  name." 

I  found  it  was  exactly  as  the  professor  had  said. 
Strangely  enough,  the  only  original  was  one  of  the 
weakest — if  not  the  very  weakest  of  the  collection, 
while  the  beauty  of  many  of  the  anonymous  pictures 
had  for  me  an  irresistible  charm.  The  picture  on 
one  of  the  altars  was  covered  up,  and  I  asked  the 
cause  of  this  :  "  This  picture,"  said  the  professor,  "  is 
the  finest  that  we  possess, — it  is  the  work  of  a  young 
artist  of  modern  times — certainly  his  last,  for  his 
flight  is  checked.  At  this  time  we  are  obliged,  for 
certain  reasons,  to  cover  it  up,  but  to-morrow,  or  the 
day  after,  I  shall  perhaps  be  in  a  condition  to  show 
it  you." 

I  wished  to  make  further  inquiries,  but  the  pro 
fessor  hurried  swiftly  through  the  passage,  and  that 
was  enough  to  show  his  unwillingness  to  answer 
more.  We  went  back  to  the  college,  and  I  readily 
accepted  the  invitation  of  the  professor,  who  wished 
me,  in  the  afternoon,  to  go  with  him  to  some  public 
gardens  in  the  neighborhood.  We  returned  home 
late,  a  storm  had  risen,  and  I  had  scarcely  reached 
my  dwelling  than  the  rain  began  to  pour  down. 
About  midnight  the  sky  cleared  up,  and  the  thun 
der  only  murmured  in  the  distance.  Through  the 
open  windows  the  warm  air,  laden  with  scents,  en 
tered  the  room,  and  though  I  was  weary,  I  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  take  a  walk.  I  succeeded 


124  THE   TOKEN. 

in  waking  the  surly  man-servant,  who  had  been 
snoring  for  about  two  hours  ;  and  in  showing  him 
that  there  was  no  madness  in  working  at  midnight. 
Soon  I  found  myself  in  the  street.  When  I  passed 
the  Jesuits'  church,  I  was  struck  by  the  dazzling 
light  that  beamed  through  a  window.  The  little  side- 
door  was  ajar,  so  I  entered  and  saw  a  wax-taper 
burning  before  a  niche.  When  I  had  come  nearer, 
I  observed  that  before  this  niche  a  packthread  net 
had  been  spread,  behind  which  a  dark  form  was  run 
ning  up  and  down  the  ladder,  and  seemed  to  be 
designing  something  on  the  niche.  It  was  Berthold, 
who  was  accurately  tracing  the  shadow  of  the  net 
with  black  color.  On  a  tall  easel,  by  the  ladder, 
stood  the  drawing  of  an  altar.  I  was  much  struck 
at  the  ingenious  contrivance.  If,  gentle  reader,  you 
are  in  the  least  acquainted  with  the  noble  art  of 
painting,  you  will  at  once  know,  without  further  ex 
planation,  the  use  of  the  net,  the  shadow  of  which 
Berthold  was  sketching.  Berthold  was  about  to 
paint  a  projecting  altar  on  the  niche,  and  that  he 
might  make  a  large  copy  of  the  small  drawing  with 
due  correctness,  he  was  obliged  to  put  a  net,  in  the 
usual  manner,  over  both  the  sketch  and  the  surface 
on  which  the  sketch  was  to  be  completed.  In  this 
instance  he  had  to  paint  not  on  a  flat  surface  but  on 
a  semicircular  one ;  and  the  correspondence  of  the 
squares  which  the  curved  lines  of  the  net  formed  on 
the  concave  surface,  with  the  straight  ones  of  the 


CHURCH.  125 

sketch,  together  with  accuracy  in  the  architectural 
proportions  which  were  to  be  brought  forward  in 
perspective,  could  not  be  otherwise  obtained  than 
by  that  simple  and  ingenious  contrivance.  I  was 
cautious  enough  not  to  step  before  the  taper,  lest  I 
might  betray  myself  by  my  shadow,  but  I  stood 
near  enough  to  his  side  to  observe  the  painter 
closely.  He  appeared  to  me  quite  another  man. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  effect  of  the  taper,  but  his  face 
had  a  good  color,  his  eyes  sparkled  with  internal 
satisfaction,  and  when  he  had  completed  the  lines 
he  placed  himself  before  the  screen,  with  his  hands 
resting  on  his  sides,  and  looked  at  his  work,  whistling 
a  merry  tune.  He  now  turned  round,  and  tore  down 
the  net.  Suddenly  he  was  struck  by  my  figure,  and 
cried  aloud  : 

"  Halloah  !  halloah  !  is  that  you,  Christian  ?  " 
I  went  up  to  him,  explained  how  I  had  been 
attracted  into  the  church,  and  praising  the  in 
genious  contrivance  of  the  net,  gave  him  to  under 
stand  that  I  was  but  a  connoisseur  and  practiser  of 
the  noble  art  of  painting.  Without  making  me  any 
further  answer,  Berthold  said  : 

"  Christian  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  slug 
gard.  He  was  to  have  kept  with  me  faithfully 
through  the  whole  night,  and  now  he  is  certainly 
snoring  somewhere  !  I  must  get  on  with  my  work, 
for  probably  it  will  be  bad  to  paint  here  on  the 


126  THE   TOKEN. 

screen  to-morrow — and   yet  I  can  do  nothing  by 
myself." 

I  offered  my  assistance,  upon  which  he  laughed 
aloud,  laid  hold  of  both  my  shoulders,  and  cried  : 

"  That  is  a  capital  joke  !  What  will  Christian 
say,  when  he  finds  to-morrow  that  he  is  an  ass,  and 
that  I  have  done  without  him  ?  So,  come  hither, 
stranger,  help  me  to  build  a  little." 

He  lit  several  tapers,  we  ran  through  the  church, 
pulled  together  a  number  of  blocks  and  planks,  and 
a  lofty  scaffold  was  soon  raised  within  the  screen. 

"  Now  hand  up  quickly,"  cried  Berthold,  as  he 
ascended. 

I  was  astonished  at  the  rapidity  with  which 
Berthold  made  a  large  copy  of  the  drawing  ;  he  drew 
his  lines  boldly,  and  always  clearly  and  correctly, 
without  a  single  fault.  Having  been  accustomed  to 
such  matters  in  my  early  youth,  I  was  of  good 
service  to  him,  for  standing,  now  above  him,  now 
below  him,  I  fixed  the  long  rulers  at  the  points  he 
indicated,  and  held  them  fast,  pointed  the  charcoal, 
and  handed  it  to  him,  and  so  on. 

"  You  are  a  capital  assistant,"  cried  Berthold, 
quite  delighted. 

"And  you,"  I  retorted,  "are  one  of  the  best 
architectural  painters  possible.  But  tell  me,  have 
you  applied  your  bold,  ready  hand  to  no  sort  of 
painting  but  this  ? — Pardon  the  question." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Berthold. 


THE  JESUITS'   CHURCH.  127 

"  Why,  I  mean,"  replied  I,  "  that  you  are  fit  for 
something  better  than  painting  church  walls  with 
marble  pillars.  Architectural  painting  is,  after  all, 
something  subordinate  ;  the  historical  painter,  the 
landscape  'painter,  stands  infinitely  higher.  With 
them,  mind  and  fancy,  no  longer  confined  to  the  nar 
row  limits  of  geometrical  lines,  take  a  higher  flight. 
Even  the  only  fantastic  part  of  your  painting,  that 
perspective,  which  deceives  the  senses,  depends  upon 
accurate  calculation,  and  the  result  therefore  is  the 
product  not  of  genius,  but  of  mathematical  specu 
lation/'  While  I  was  speaking  thus,  the  painter 
laid  aside  his  pencil,  aiid  rested  his  head  on  his 
hand. 

"  Friend,  stranger,"  he  began,  in  a  solemn,  indis 
tinct  voice,  "thou  speakest  profanely,  when  thou 
endeavorest  to  arrange  the  different  branches  of  art 
according  to  rank,  like  the  vassals  of  some  proud 
king.  And  still  more  profane  is  it,  when  thou  only 
esteemest  those  presumptuous  fools  who,  being  deaf 
to  the  clang  of  the  fetters  that  enslave  them,  and 
being  without  feeling  for  the  pressure  of  the  earthy, 
wish  to  think  themselves  free — yea,  even  to  be  gods 
— and  to  rule  light  and  life  after  their  own  fashion. 
Dost  thou  know  the  fable  of  Prometheus,  who 
wished  to  be  a  creator,  and  stole  fire  from  heaven 
to  animate  his  lifeless  figures  ?  He  succeeded  ;  the 
forms  stalked  living  along,  and  from  their  eyes 
beamed  forth  that  heavenly  fire  that  burned  within 


128  THE  TOKEN. 

them  ;  but  the  impious  being,  who  had  dared  to 
attempt  the  divine,  was  condemned  to  fearful,  end 
less  torment,  without  redemption.  The  heart  which 
had  felt  the  divine,  in  which  the  desire  after  the 
unearthly  had  awakened,  was  torn  by  the  vulture, 
to  which  revenge  had  given  birth,  and  which  now 
fed  upon  the  vitals  of  the  presumptuous  one.  He 
who  has  attempted  the  heavenly,  feels  earthly  pain 
for  ever." 

The  painter  stood  absorbed  in  his  own  reflec 
tions. 

"  Berthold,"  I  exclaimed,  "  what  has  all  this  to 
do  with  your  art  ?  I  do  not  think  that  any  one 
can  deem  it  presumption  to  present  the  human  form, 
either  by  painting  or  sculpture." 

"  Um,  ha,"  laughed  Berthold,  in  wild  derision  ; 
"  child's  play  is  no  presumption.  It  is  all  child's 
play  with  those  folks,  who  comfortably  dip  their 
pencils  into  color-pots,  and  daub  a  canvas  with  the 
veritable  desire  of  producing  human  beings  ;  but  it 
always  turns  out  as  if  some  drudge  of  nature  had 
undertaken  to  make  men,  as  it  stands  in  that  tra 
gedy,  and  had  failed.  Such  as  those  are  no  presump 
tuous  sinners,  but  poor  innocent  fools.  But  if  one 
strives  to  attain  the  highest,  not  the  mere  sensual, 
like  Titian — no,  the  highest  in  divine  nature,  the 
Promethean  spark  in  man — that  is  a  precipice — a 
narrow  edge  on  which  we  stand — the  abyss  is  open ! 
The  bold  sailor  soars  above  him,  and  a  devilish  deceit 


CHURCH.  129 

lets  him  perceive  that  below,  which  he  wished  to  see 
above  the  stars."  The  painter  uttered  a  deep  sigh, 
passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  and  then  looked 
upwards.  "  But  why  do  I  talk  all  this  mad  stuff 
to  you,  comrade,  and  leave  off  painting  ?  Look 
here,  mate,  this  is  what  I  call  well  and  honestly 
drawn.  How  noble  is  the  rule !  All  the  lines  com 
bine  to  a  determined  end — a  determined,  clearly 
conceived  effect.  Only  that  which  is  done  by  mea 
sure  is  purely  human  ; — what  is  beyond,  is  of  evil. 
Can  we  not  conceive  that  the  Deity  has  expressly 
created  us,  to  manage  for  his  own  good  purpose 
that  which  is  exhibited  according  to  measured,  ap 
preciable  rules  ; — in  a  word,  the  purely  commeasur- 
able,  just  as  we,  in  our  turn  build  saw-mills  and 
spinning-machines,  as  the  mechanical  superintend 
ents  of  our  wants  ?  Professor  Walter  lately  main 
tained,  that  certain  beasts  were  merely  created  to 
be  eaten  by  others,  and  that  this,  in  the  end,  con 
duced  to  our  own  utility.  Thus,  for  example,  cats, 
he  said,  had  an  innate  propensity  to  devour  mice, 
that  they  might  not  nibble  the  sugar  placed  ready 
for  our  breakfast.  And  the  professor  was  right  in 
the  end  ; — animals,  and  we  ourselves,  are  but  well- 
ordered  machines,  made  to  work  up  and  knead  cer 
tain  materials  for  the  table  of  the  unknown  king. — 
Come,  come,  mate,  hand  me  up  the  pots.  I  pre 
pared  all  the  tones  yesterday  by  daylight,  that  this 
candlelight  might  not  deceive  us,  and  they  all  stand 


130  THE   TOKEN. 

numbered  in  yonder  corner.  Hand  me  up  No.  1, 
young  friend.  Gray  with  gray  ! — What  would  dry, 
weary  life  be,  if  the  Lord  of  Heaven  had  not  pat  so 
many  motley  playthings  into  our  hands.  He  who 
demeans  himself  well  does  not,  like  the  curious  boy, 
try  to  break  the  box  from  which  the  music  comes 
when  he  turns  the  handle.  It  is  just  natural,  they 
say,  that  it  sounds  inside,  for  I  turn  the  handle. 
Because  I  have  drawn  this  intellective  correctly  ac 
cording  to  the  point  of  view,  I  know  that  it  will 
have  the  effect  of  actual  sculpture  on  the  spectator. 
— Now,  boy,  reach  me  No.  2,  now  I  paint  in  colors 
that  are  toned  down  according  to  rule,  and  it  ap 
pears  receding  five  yards.  All  that  I  know  well 
enough — oh,  we  are  amazingly  clever  !  How  is  it 
that  objects  diminish  in  the  distance?  This  one 
stupid  question  of  a  Chinese  could  put  to  confusion 
Professor  Eytelwein  himself;  but  he  could  help 
himself  out  of  the  music-box,  and  say  he  had  often 
turned  the  handle,  and  always  experienced  the  same 
result. — Violet,  No.  2,  youngster  !  Another  rule, 
and  a  thick  washed-out  brush  !  Ah,  what  is  all 
our  striving  and  struggling  after  the  higher,  but  the 
helpless,  unconscious  act  of  an  infant  who  hurts  the 
nurse  that  feeds  him.  Violet,  No.  2  !  Quick, 
young  man  !  The  ideal  is  an  evil,  lying  dream, 
produced  by  fermented  blood.  Take  away  the  pot, 
young  man,  I  am  coming  down.  The  devil  lures  us 
with  puppets,  to  which  he  glues  angels'  wings/' 


CHURCH.  13  L 

I  am  unable  to  repeat  literally,  what  Berthold 
said,  while  he  went  on  painting  rapidly,  and  treated 
me  only  as  his  fag.  He  went  on  in  the  tone  in 
which  he  had  begun,  scoffing  at  the  limited  nature 
of  every  human  effort.  Ah,  I  was  inspecting  the 
depth  of  a  mind  that  had  received  its  death-wound, 
and  that  only  uttered  its  complaints  in  bitter  irony. 
Morning  dawned,  and  the  glimmer  of  the  taper  grew 
pale  before  the  entrance  of  sunlight.  Berthold 
painted  on  zealously,  but  he  became  more  and  more 
silent,  and  only  single  sounds — ultimately,  only 
sighs — escaped  his  burdened  breast.  He  had  plan 
ned  the  entire  altar  with  all  its  gradation  of  color, 
and  even  now  the  picture  stood  out  quite  promi 
nently. 

"  Admirable  !  admirable  !  "  I  cried  out  with  de 
light. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Berthold,  faintly,  "  that  I 
shall  make  something  of  it  ?  I  at  least  took  great 
pains  to  make  my  drawing  correct,  but  now  I  can 
do  no  more." 

"  No,  no,  not  a  stroke  more,  dear  Berthold,"  I 
exclaimed,  "  it  is  almost  incredible  how  you  have 
made  so  much  progress  in  such  a  work  within  a  few 
hours.  But  you  exert  yourself  too  much,  and  are 
quite  lavish  of  your  power/' 

"  And  yet,"  said  Berthold,  "  these  are  my  hap 
piest  hours.  Perhaps  I  talked  too  much,  but  it  is 


132  THE    TOKEN. 

only  in  words  that  the  pain  which  consumes  my 
vitals  finds  a  vent/' 

"  You  seem  to  feel  very  unhappy,  my  poor 
friend/'  said  I,  "  some  frightful  event  has  had  an 
evil  influence  on  your  life." 

The  painter  slowly  took  his  materials  into  the 
chapel,  extinguished  the  lights,  and  coming  up  to 
me,  seized  my  hand,  and  said,  in  a  faltering  voice, 
"Could  you  be  cheerful,  nay,  could  you  have  one 
quiet  moment,  if  you  were  conscious  of  a  fearful,  ir 
reparable  crime  ?  " 

I  stood  perfectly  amazed.  The  bright  sunbeams 
fell  on  the  painter's  pallid,  agitated  countenance,  and 
he  almost  looked  like  a  spectre  as  he  staggered 
through  the  little  door  into  the  interior  of  the  col 
lege. 

I  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  hour  on  the  follow 
ing  day,  when  Professor  Walter  had  appointed  to 
see  me.  I  told  him  the  whole  affair  of  the  previous 
night,  which  had  excited  me  not  a  little  ;  I  described 
in  the  most  lively  colors  the  strange  conduct  of  the 
painter,  and  did  not  suppress  a  word  that  he  had 
uttered — not  even  those  which  related  to  himself. 
But  the  more  I  hoped  for  the  professor's  sympathy, 
the  more  indifferent  he  appeared  ;  nay,  he  smiled 
upon  me  in  a  most  unpleasant  manner  when  I  con 
tinued  to  talk  of  Berthold,  and  pressed  him  to  tell 
me  all  he  knew  about  this  unfortunate  man. 

"  He  is  a  strange  creature  that  painter,"  said  the 


CHURCH.  133 

professor,  "mild,  good-tempered,  sober,  industrious, 
as  I  told  you  before,  but  weak  in  his  intellect.  If 
he  had  been  otherwise  he  would  never  have  descended, 
even  though  he  did  commit  a  crime,  from  a  great 
historical  painter,  to  a  poor  dauber  of  walls/7 

This  expression,  "  dauber  of  walls,"  annoyed  me 
as  much  as  the  professor's  general  indifference.  I 
tried  to  convince  him  that  Berthold  was  even  now  a 
most  estimable  artist,  and  deserving  of  the  highest, 
the  most  active  sympathy. 

"  Well,"  said  the  professor  at  last,  "  since  you 
take  so  much  interest  in  Berthold  you  shall  hear  all 
that  I  know  of  him,  and  that  is  not  a  little.  By 
way  of  introduction  we  will  go  into  the  church  at 
once.  As  Berthold  has  worked  hard  throughout  the 
night  he  will  rest  during  the  forenoon.  If  we  found 
him  in  the  church  my  design  would  fail." 

We  went  to  the  church,  the  professor  had  the 
cloth  removed  from  the  covered  picture,  and  a  work 
of  the  most  magical  splendor,  such  as  I  had  never 
seen,  was  revealed  to  me.  The  composition  was  in 
the  style  of  Raffaelle,  simple,  and  of  heavenly  sub 
limity.  Mary  and  Elizabeth  were  sitting  on  the 
grass  in  a  beautiful  garden  :  the  children  Jesus  and 
John,  were  before  them,  playing  with  flowers,  and  in 
the  background  towards  the  side,  a  male  figure  was 
praying.  Mary's  lovely,  heavenly  face,  the  dignity 
and  elevation  of  her  entire  figure,  filled  me  with  as 
tonishment  and  the  deepest  admiration.  She  was 


134  THE    TOKEN. 

beautiful,  more  beautiful  than  an  earthly  woman, 
and  her  glance  indicated  the  higher  power  of  the 
mother  of  God,  like  that  of  Kaffaelle's  Mary  in  the 
Dresden  Gallery.  Ah  !  was  not  the  deepest  thirst 
for  eternity  awakened  perforce  in  the  human  heart, 
by  those  wondrous  eyes  round  which  a  deep  shadow 
was  floating  ?  Did  not  those  soft,  half-opened  lips 
speak  in  consolatory  language,  as  in  the  sweet  mel 
ody  of  angels,  of  the  infinite  happiness  of  heaven  ? 
An  indescribable  feeling  impelled  me  to  cast  myself 
down  in  the  dust  before  her,  the  Queen  of  Heaven. 
I  had  lost  the  power  of  speech,  and  could  not  turn 
my  eyes  from  the  incomparable  figure.  Only  Mary 
and  the  children  were  quite  finished  ;  the  last  touch 
had  not,  apparently,  been  given  to  the  figure  of 
Elizabeth,  and  the  praying  man  was  not  yet  painted 
over.  Approaching  nearer,  I  perceived  in  this  man 
the  features  of  Berthold,  and  already  anticipated  in 
my  mind  what  the  professor  presently  said  :  "  This 
picture  is  Berthold' s  last  work.  We  got  it  several 

years  ago  from  N ,  in  upper  Silesia,  where  one 

of  our  colleagues  bought  it  at  an  auction.  Although 
unfinished,  we  had  it  fitted  in  here,  in  the  place  of  the 
wretched  altar-piece  which  we  had  formerly.  When 
Berthold  first  came  and  saw  the  picture,  he  uttered 
a  loud  shriek  and  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Af 
terwards  he  carefully  avoided  looking  at  it,  and  told 
me  in  confidence  that  it  was  his  last  work  of  this 
class.  I  hoped  that  I  should  gradually  persuade 


135 


him  to  finish  it,  but  every  proposal  of  the  sort  he  re 
jected  with  the  utmost  abhorrence,  and  to  keep  him 
in  good  spirits,  and  in  the  full  possession  of  his 
powers,  I  was  forced  to  cover  up  the  picture  so  long 
as  he  remained  in  the  church.  If  it  met  his  eye  only 
by  accident,  he  ran  as  if  impelled  by  some  irresistible 
power,  cast  himself  sobbing  on  the  ground,  a  parox 
ysm  seized  him,  and  he  was  for  many  days  quite 
unfit  for  work." 

"  Poor,  unfortunate  man  !  "  exclaimed  I,  "  how 
did  the  hand  of  the  devil  take  such  a  deadly  hold  of 
thy  life  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  professor,  "the hand  as  well  as 
the  arm  grew  in  his  own  body  :  he  was  his  own  de 
mon,  his  own  Lucifer,  flashing  the  infernal  torch, 
upon  his  own  life.  That  is  plain  enough  to  those 
who  know  his  biography." 

I  entreated  the  professor  at  once  to  tell  me  all 
that  he  knew  about  the  life  of  the  unfortunate 
painter. 

"  That  would  be  much  too  prolix,  and  cost  too 
much  breath,"  replied  the  professor.  "  Do  not  let  us 
spoil  the  cheerful  day  by  such  gloomy  stuff.  We 
will  take  breakfast  and  then  go  to  the  mill,  where 
an  excellent  dinner  awaits  us." 

I  did  not  desist  from  my  requests  to  the  profes 
sor,  and  after  much  talk  on  both  sides,  it  came  out 
that,  immediately  after  BerthokVs  arrival,  a  youth 
who  was  studying  at  the  college,  devotedly  attached 


THE    TOKEN. 

himself  to  him,  and  that  Berthold,  by  degrees,  com 
municated  the  particulars  of  his  life  to  this  youth, 
who  had  carefully  written  them  down,  and  had  given 
the  manuscript  to  the  professor. 

"  He  was,"  said  the  professor,  "  much  such  an 
enthusiast  as — pardon  me — you  are  !  But  this  work 
of  writing  down  the  strange  events  in  the  painter's 
life  served  him  as  a  capital  exercise  for  style." 

With  much  trouble  I  obtained  from  the  professor 
a  promise  that  he  would  lend  me  the  manuscript 
after  the  close  of  our  pleasure-party.  Whether  it 
proceeded  from  my  own  violent  curiosity,  or  whether 
it  was  the  professor's  fault,  I  never  felt  more  uneasy 
than  during  this  day.  The  evening  at  last  came, 
and  the  professor  put  a  few  sheets  of  manuscript  into 
my  hand,  with  the  words  :  "  There,  my  dear  enthu 
siast,  is  the  student's  handywork.  It  is  not  badly 
written  but  very  odd,  &r,d  the  author,  against  all 
rule,  thrusts  in  discourses  of  the  painter,  word  for 
word,  without  any  notice  to  the  reader.  I  will  make 
you  a  present  of  the  work,  of  which  I  have  a  right  to 
dispose  by  virtue  of  my  office,  for  I  know  perfectly 
well  that  you  are  no  writer.  The  author  of  the  "  Fan- 
tasie-Stticke  in  Gallot's  Harder"*  (fancy  pieces  in 
the  style  of  Callot)  would  have  it  according  to  his  own 
mad  fashion,  and  would  have  printed  it  at  once.  I 
have  nothing  of  the  sort  to  expect  from  you." 

*  These  "  Fantasie-Stiicke  "  are  a  collection  of  tales,  &c.,  by  Hoff 
mann,  and  purport  to  be  leaves  from  the  journal  of  a  travelling  en 
thusiast. 


THE   JESUITS'   CHUECH.  137 

Professor  Aloysius  Walter  did  not  know  that  he 
really  stood  before  the  "  travelling  enthusiast/'  al 
though  he  might  have  found  it  out,  and  thus,  gentle 
reader,  I  am  enabled  to  give  you  the  Jesuit-student's 
short  history  of  the  painter,  Berthold.  It  thoroughly 
explains  the  manner  in  which  he  conducted  himself 
in  my  presence,  and  thou,  reader,  wilt  be  able  to  see 
how  the  strange  spirit  of  destiny  often  plunges  us  into 
destructive  error. 

"  '  Only  let  your  son  make  up  his  mind  and  go  to 
Italy.  He  is  already  a  clever  artist,  and  here  at 

D there  is  no  lack  of  opportunity  for  studying 

after  excellent  originals  in  every  class,  but  here  he 
must  not  stay.  The  free  life  of  an  artist  must  dawn 
upon  him  in  the  cheerful  land  of  art,  his  studies  will 
there  first  take  a  living  form,  and  produce  individual 
thoughts.  Mere  copying  is  now  of  no  further  use  to 
him.  The  growing  plant  requires  more  sun  to  thrive 
and  bring  forth  its  blossoms  and  fruit.  Your  son  has 
a  really  artistical  temperament,  so  you  may  be  per 
fectly  satisfied  about  all  the  rest  ! '  Thus  said  the 
old  painter,  Stephan  Birkner,  to  Berthold's  parents. 
The  latter  scraped  together  all  that  their  slender 
means  would  allow,  to  fit  out  the  youth  for  his  long 
journey,  and  thus  was  Berthold's  warmest  wish — 
that  of  travelling  to  Italy — accomplished. 

" l  When  Birkner  told  me  the  decision  of  my 
parents,  I  literally  jumped  with  joy.  I  wandered 

7* 


138  THE  TOKEN. 

about  as  if  in  a  dream  till  the  time  of  my  departure. 
I  was  not  able  to  make  a  single  stroke  with  my  pen 
cil  in  the  gallery.  I  made  the  inspector,  and  all  the 
artists  who  had  been  to  Italy,  tell  me  of  the  land 
where  art  flourishes.  The  day  and  hour  at  length 
arrived.  The  parting  from  my  parents  was  painful, 
as  they  felt  a  gloomy  presentiment  that  they  should 
not  see  me  again.  Even  my  father,  generally  a  firm, 
resolute  man,  had  difficulty  in  containing  his  feel 
ings.  "  Italy  !  you  will  see  Italy !  "  cried  my  brother 
artists,  and  then  my  wish  shone  forth  with  greater 
power,  from  my  deep  melancholy,  and  I  stepped  bold 
ly  forth,  for  the  path  of  an  artist  seemed  to  begin  even 
at  my  parents'  door/ 

"  Berthold  had  studied  every  department  of 
painting,  but  he  had  especially  devoted  himself  to 
landscapes,  at  which  he  worked  with  ardent  love  and 
zeal.  In  Koine  he  expected  to  find  abundant  nur 
ture  for  this  branch  of  art,  but  it  proved  otherwise. 
The  very  circle  of  artists  and  dilettanti  in  which  he 
moved,  continually  told  him  that  the  historical 
painter  alone  stood  on  the  highest  point,  and  that  all 
the  rest  were  but  subordinate.  He  was  advised,  if  he 
wished  to  become  an  artist  of  eminence,  to  abandon 
at  once  the  department  he  had  chosen,  and  to  devote 
himself  to  the  higher  branch  ;  and  this  advice,  cou 
pled  with  the  novel  impression  which  Baifaelle's 
mighty  frescoes  in  the  Vatican  had  made  upon  him, 
determined  him  to  give  up  landscape  painting  alto- 


THE  JESUITS'   CHURCH.  139 

gether.  Ho  sketched  after  the  Raffaelles,  and  he 
copied  small  oil  paintings  by  other  celebrated  mas 
ters.  All  these  things  were  very  cleverly  done  by  his 
practised  hand  ;  but  he  plainly  felt  that  the  praise 
of  the  artists  and  dilettanti  should  only  solace  him, 
and  encourage  him  to  further  efforts.  He  himself 
saw  that  his  sketches  and  copies  wanted  all  the  fire 
of  the  originals.  Raffaelle's  and  Correggio's  heaven 
ly  thoughts — so  he  thought — inspired  him  to  crea 
tions  of  his  own,  but  he  wished  to  hold  them  fast  in 
his  fancy,  they  vanished  as  in  a  mist,  and  all  that  he 
sketched  was  like  every  obscure,  confused  thought, 
without  motion  and  significance.  During  his  vain  en 
deavors  deep  melancholy  took  possession  of  his  soul, 
and  he  often  escaped  from  his  friends,  privately  to 
sketch  and  paint  in  the  vicinity  of  Home,  groups  of 
trees — single  pieces  of  landscape.  But  even  these 
attempts  were  less  successful  than  formerly ;  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  doubted  the  truth  of 
his  calling  as  an  artist.  His  proudest  hopes  seemed 
on  the  point  of  vanishing.  '  Ah,  my  revered  friend 
and  instructor/  wrote  Berthold  to  Birkner, f  you  gave 
me  credit  for  great  things  ;  but  here,  when  a  light 
should  have  risen  in  my  soul,  I  have  learned  that  that 
which  you  termed  real  artistical  genius  was  nothing 
but  a  sort  of  talent — mere  dexterity  of  hand.  Tell  my 
parents  that  I  shall  soon  return,  and  learn  some 
trade  that  I  may  get  my  living,'  &c.  Birkner  wrote 
back  :  *  Oh  !  would  I  could  be  with  you,  my  son,  to 


140  THE    TOKEN. 

support  you  in  your  depression.  It  is  your  very 
doubts  that  prove  your  calling  as  an  artist.  He  who 
with  steady  immovable  confidence  in  his  powers  be 
lieves  that  he  will  always  progress,  is  a  blind  fool, 
who  only  deceives  himself,  for  he  wants  the  proper 
spur  to  endeavor,  which  only  consists  in  the  thought 
of  deficiency.  Persevere,  and  you  will  soon  gain 
strength  ;  and  then,  no  longer  fettered  by  the  opinion 
or  the  advice  of  friends,  who  are,  perhaps,unable  to  ap 
preciate  you,  you  will  quietly  pursue  the  path  which 
your  own  nature  has  designed  for  you.  It  will  then 
be  left  to  your  own  decision  whether  you  become  a 
painter  of  landscapes  or  historical  pieces,  and  you 
will  cease  to  think  of  a  hostile  separation  of  the 
branches  of  one  trunk/ 

"  It  happened  that  about  the  time  when  Berthold 
received  this  letter  of  consolation  from  his  old  friend 
and  instructor,  Philip  Hackert's  fame  became  widely 
extended  in  Borne.  Some  of  the  paintings  which  he 
had  exhibited,  and  which  were  distinguished  by  won 
derful  grace  and  clearness,  proved  the  real  genius  of 
the  artist,  and  even  the  historical  painters  admitted 
that  there  was  much  greatness  and  excellence  in  this 
pure  imitation  of  nature.  Berthold  breathed  again  ; 
he  no  more  heard  his  favorite  art  treated  with  con 
tempt,  he  saw  a  man  who  pursued  it  honored  and 
elevated,  and,  as  it  were,  a  spark  fell  on  his  soul  that 
he  must  travel  to  Naples  and  study  under  Hackert. 
In  high  spirits  he  wrote  to  Birkner,  and  his  parents, 


CHUKCH.  141 

that  he  had  DOW,  after  a  hard  struggle,  discovered 
the  right  way,  and  hoped  to  become  a  clever  artist 
in  his  own  style.  The  honest  German,  Hackert,  re 
ceived  his  German  pupil  with  great  kindness,  and 
the  latter  soon  made  great  efforts  to  follow  his  mas 
ter.  Berthold  attained  great  facility  in  giving  faith 
ful  representations  of  the  different  kinds  of  trees  and 
shrubs,  and  was  not  a  little  successful  in  those  misty 
effects,  which  are  to  be  found  in  Hackert's  pictures. 
He  thus  gained  great  praise,  but  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  something  was  wanting  both  in  his  own  and  his 
master's  landscapes  ; — something  to  which  he  could 
not  give  a  name,  and  which  was  nevertheless  plainly 
apparent  in  the  pictures  by  Claude  Lorraine,  and  the 
wild  landscapes  of  Salvator  Kosa.  Soon  he  felt  a 
want  of  confidence  in  his  instructor,  and  he  felt  par 
ticularly  dispirited  when  Hackert,  with  unwearied 
exertion,  painted  some  dead  game  which  the  king 
had  sent  him.  Soon,  however,  he  conquered  such 
presumptuous  thoughts — as  he  considered  them — 
and  went  on  with  virtuous  resignation  and  true  German 
industry,  following  the  pattern  of  his  master,  so  that 
in  a  short  time  he  could  nearly  equal  him.  At  Hack- 
ert's  own  suggestion  he  sent  a  large  landscape,  which 
he  had  faithfully  copied  from  nature,  to  an  exhibition, 
which  was  chiefly  to  consist  of  landscapes  and  pieces 
of  still-life  in  the  Hackert  style.  All  the  artists  and 
connoisseurs  admired  the  young  man's  faithful,  neatly 
executed  works,  and  praised  them  aloud.  There  was 


142  THE    TOKEN. 

only  an  elderly  strangely-attired  man,  who  did  not  say 
a  word  about  Hackert's  pictures,  but  smiled,  signifi 
cantly,  whenever  the  multitude  broke  out  into  extra 
vagant  praises.  Berthold  perceived  plainly  enough 
that  this  stranger,  when  he  stood  before  his  land 
scape,  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  pity, 
and  was  then  about  to  retire.  Being  somewhat  ele 
vated  by  the  general  praise  which  he  had  received, 
Berthold  could  not  help  feeling  indignant  with  the 
stranger.  He  went  up  to  him,  and  speaking  more 
sharply  than  was  necessary,  said  :  f  You  do  not  seem 
satisfied  with  the  picture,  sir,  although  I  must  say 
there  are  excellent  artists  and  connoisseurs  who  do 
not  think  it  so  bad.  Pray  tell  me  where  the  fault 
lies,  that  I  may  improve  the  picture  according  to  your 
kind  suggestion/  The  stranger  cast  a  keen  glance  at 
Berthold,  and  said,  very  seriously  :  c  Young  man,  a 
great  deal  might  be  made  out  of  you.'  Berthold  felt 
deeply  horrified  at  the  glance  and  the  words  of  this 
man  ;  he  had  not  courage  to  say  any  thing  more,  or 
to  follow  him,  when  he  slowly  stalked  out  of  the  sa 
loon.  Hackert  soon  came  in  himself,  and  Berthold 
hastened  to  tell  him  of  his  meeting  with  this  strange 
man.  '  Ha  ! '  said  Hackert,  smiling,  f  do  not  take 
that  to  heart.  That  is  a  crabbed  old  man,  who 
grumbles  at  every  thing,  and  is  pleased  at  nothing  ; 
I  met  him  in  the  ante-room.  He  was  born  of  Greek 
parents,  in  Malta,  and  is  a  rich,  queer  old  fellow,  and 
no  bad  painter.  All  that  he  does  has  a  fantastic  ap- 


THE  JESUITS'   CHURCH.  143 

pearance,  and  this  proceeds  from  the  absurd  notion 
he  has  about  art,  and  from  the  fact  that  he  has  con 
structed  a  system  which  is  utterly  worthless.  I 
know  well  enough  that  he  has  no  opinion  of  me, 
which  I  readily  pardon  in  him,  since  he  cannot  throw 
any  doubt  on  my  honorably  acquired  fame/  Ber- 
thold  had  felt  as  if  the  Maltese  had  touched  a  sore 
place  in  his  soul,  like  a  beneficent  physician,  only 
for  the  purpose  of  probing  it  and  healing  it  ;  but  he 
soon  drove  this  notion  from  his  mind,  and  worked  on 
happily  as  he  had  done  before. 

"  The  success  of  this  large  picture,  which  was 
universally  admired,  gave  him  courage  to  begin  a  com 
panion  to  it  Hackert  himself  selected  one  of  the  most 
lovely  spots  in  the  gorgeous  vicinity  of  Naples  ;  and,  as 
the  first  picture  had  represented  sunset,  this  land 
scape  was  to  show  the  effect  of  sunrise.  He  had  a 
number  of  strange  trees,  a  number  of  vineyards,  and, 
above  all,  a  good  deal  of  mist  to  paint. 

"  Berthold  was  sitting  on  a  large  flat  stone,  in 
this  very  spot,  completing  the  sketch  of  the  great 
picture  after  nature.  *  Bravo — well  done  ! '  said  a 
voice  near  him.  He  looked  up.  The  Maltese  was 
viewing  his  work,  and  added,  with  a  sarcastic  smile, 
1  You  have  only  forgotten  one  thing,  my  dear  young 
friend.  Only  look  yonder,  at  the  wall  of  the  distant 
vineyard  ;  the  one  covered  with  green  tendrils.  The 
door  is  half-open,  don't  you  see  ?  You  must  repre- 


THE    TOKEN. 

sent  that  with  its  proper  shading.  The  half-open 
door  makes  a  surprising  effect  ! ' 

"  i  You  are  joking,  sir/  exclaimed  Berthold, l  and 
without  reason.  Such  accidental  circumstances  are 
by  no  means  so  contemptible  as  you  imagine,  and 
for  that  very  reason  my  master  loves  to  employ  them. 
Only  recollect  the  suspended  white  cloth  in  the  land 
scape  of  one  of  the  Dutch  painters,  that  could  not 
be  omitted  without  marring  the  general  effect. 
You,  however,  seem  to  be  no  friend  to  landscape 
painting  in  general ;  and,  as  I  have  given  myself  up 
to  it  with  heart  and  soul,  I  beg  of  you  to  let  me  go 
on  working  in  quiet/ 

"  ( You  are  much  mistaken,  young  man/  said 
the  Maltese.  '  I  tell  you  again  that  a  good  deal 
might  be  made  of  you,  for  your  works  visibly  prove 
an  unwearied  endeavor  to  attain  the  highest ;  but 
that,  unfortunately,  you  will  never  attain,  since  the 
path  that  you  have  taken  does  not  lead  to  it.  Only 
mark  what  I  tell  you.  Perhaps  I  may  succeed  in 
kindling  that  flame  in  your  soul,  which  you,  senseless 
as  you  are,  are  endeavoring  to  smother,  and  in 
making  it  flash  up  brightly,  so  as  to  enlighten  you. 
Then  you  will  be  able  to  recognise  the  real  spirit 
that  animates  you.  Do  you  think  I  am  so  foolish  as 
to  place  the  landscape  lower  in  rank  than  the  his 
torical  painting,  a^d  that  I  do  not  recognise  the 
common  goal  after  which  the  painters  of  both  classes 
should  strive  ?  The  apprehension  of  nature  in  the 


CHURCH.  145 

deepest  import  of  that  higher  sense,  which  kindles 
all  beings  to  a  higher  life,  that  is  the  sacred  end  of 
all  art.     Can  the  mere  dim  copying  of  nature  lead  to 
this  ?     How  poor,  how  stiff  and  forced,  is  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  manuscript  copied  from  another  in 
some  foreign  language,  which  the  copyist  does  not 
understand,   and  is,  therefore,   unable  to  give  the 
strokes,  which  he  laboriously  imitates,  their  proper 
significance.     Thus    your   master's   landscapes    are 
correct  copies  of  an  original  author  in  a  language 
which  is  strange  to  him.     The  initiated  artist  hears 
the  voice  of  nature,  which  from  trees,  hedges,  flow 
ers,  mountains,  and  waters,  speaks  to  him,  and  of 
unfathomable  mysteries  in  wondrous  sounds,  .which 
form  themselves  in  his  bosom  to  a  pious  feeling  of 
foreboding  :  then,  as  a  divine  spirit,  the  talent  itself 
of  transferring  this  dim  feeling  to  his  works,  descends 
upon  him.     Have  not  you  yourself,  young  man,  felt 
strangely  affected  when  looking  at  the  landscapes  of 
the   old  masters  ?     Assuredly  you  did   not    think 
whether  the  leaves  of  the  lime-trees,  the  pines,  the 
plane-trees,  might  be  truer  to  nature,  whether  the 
background  might  be  more  misty,  or  the  water  might 
be  clearer  ;  but  the  spirit  that  breathes  from  the 
whole  raised  you  into  a  higher  region,  the  reflection 
of  which  you  seemed  to  behold.     Therefore,  study 
nature  in  the  mechanical  part,  sedulously  and  care 
fully,  that  you  may  attain  the  practice  of  represen 
tation  ;  but  do  not  take  the  practice  for  the  art  it- 


146  THE    TOKEN. 

self.  If  you  have  penetrated  into  the  deep  import 
of  nature,  her  pictures  will  arise  within  you  in  bright 
magnificence/  The  Maltese  was  silent  ;  but  when 
Berthold,  deeply  moved  by  what  he  had  heard,  stood 
with  downcast  eyes,  and  incapable  of  uttering  a  word, 
the  Maltese  left  him,  saying,  "  I  had  no  intention  of 
interrupting  you  in  jour  calling,  but  I  know  that  a 
higher  spirit  is  slumbering  in  you.  I  called  upon 
it,  with  strong  words,  that  it  might  awake,  and 
move  its  wings  with  freshness  and  vigor.  Fare 
well/ 

"  Berthold  felt  as  if  the  Maltese  had  only  clothed 
in  words  that  which  had  already  been  fermenting  in 
his  soul.  The  inner  voice  broke  forth.  '  No  !  All 
this  striving,  this  constant  endeavor,  is  but  the  uncer 
tain,  deceptive  groping  of  the  blind.  Away  with  all 
that  has  hitherto  dazzled  me/  He  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  accomplish  a  single  other  stroke.  He 
left  his  master,  and  wandered  about  full  of  wild  un 
easiness,  loudly  imploring  that  the  high  knowledge 
of  which  the  Maltese  had  spoken  might  be  revealed 
to  him. 

"  c  Only  in  sweet  dreams  was  I  happy — yes,  truly 
blessed  !  Then  every  thing  that  the  Maltese  had 
spoken  became  true.  I  lay  in  the  green  hedge, 
while  magical  exhalations  played  around  me,  and  the 
voice  of  nature  sounded  audibly  and  melodiously 
through  the  dark  forest.  "  Listen,  listen,  oh  !  thou 
initiated  one.  Hear  the  original  tones  of  creation, 


THE   JESUITS'    CHUKCH.  147 

which  fashion  themselves  to  beings  accessible  to  thy 
mind."  And  when  I  heard  the  chords  sound  plainer 
and  plainer,  I  felt  as  though  a  new  sense  was  awa 
kened  in  me,  and  apprehended  with  wonderful  per 
spicuity,  that  which  had  appeared  unfathomable.  As 
if  in  strange  hieroglyphics  I  drew  in  the  air  the  se 
crets  that  had  been  revealed  to  me  with  characters 
of  fire  ;  and  this  hieroglyphic  writing  was  a  strange 
landscape,  upon  which  trees,  hedges,  flowers,  and 
waters  moved,  as  it  seemed,  in  loud  delightful 
sounds/ 

"  But  it  was  only  in  dreams  that  poor  Berthold 
felt  real  happiness,  for  his  strength  was  broken,  and 
his  mind  was  more  disturbed  than  it  had  been  in 
Kome,  when  he  wished  to  be  an  historical  painter. 
If  he  strolled  through  the  dark  wood,  an  unpleasant 
sensation  of  awe  came  over  him  ;  if  he  went  out  and 
looked  into  the  distant  mountains,  he  felt  as  though 
icy  cold  claws  grasped  his  heart — his  breath  was 
stopped — and  he  felt  as  if  he  perished  from  internal 
anguish.  All  nature,  which  used  to  smile  kindly 
upon  him,  became  a  threatening  monster,  and  her 
voice,  which  used  to  greet  him  sweetly  in  the  mur 
muring  of  the  evening  breeze,  in  the  bubbling  of  the 
brook,  in  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  now  told  him  of 
nothing  but  perdition.  At  last,  however,  the  more 
these  lively  dreams  consoled  him,  the  calmer  he  be 
came  ;  nevertheless,  he  avoided  being  alone  in  the 
open  air,  and  hence  he  associated  himself  with  a 


148  THE    TOKEN. 

couple  of  cheerful  German  painters,  and  took  with 
them  many  a  trip  to  the  loveliest  spots  of  Naples. 

"  One  of  them,  whom  we  will  call  Florentin,  was 
at  this  moment  more  intent  upon  the  enjoyment  of 
life,  than  upon  the  serious  study  of  his  art,  as  his 
portfolio  sufficiently  testified.  Groups  of  dancing 
peasant-girls,  processions,  rural  festivals — all  this 
class  of  subjects  he  could  transfer  to  paper  with  a 
sure,  ready  hand,  whenever  he  chanced  to  meet  with 
them.  Every  drawing,  even  though  it  were  a  mere 
sketch,  had  life  and  motion.  At  the  same  time  his 
mind  was  by  no  means  closed  to  the  higher  in  art  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  penetrated  more  than  any  mod 
ern  painter  into  the  strange  import  of  the  paintings 
by  all  masters.  In  his  sketch-book  he  had  copied  in 
outline  the  frescoes  of  an  old  convent-church  in 
Kome,  before  the  walls  were  pulled  down.  They 
represented  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Catharine,  and  one 
could  not  see  any  thing  more  beautiful,  more  happily 
conceived  than  those  outlines,  which  made  a  very 
peculiar  impression  upon  Berthold.  He  saw  flashes 
through  the  gloomy  desert  that  surrounded  him,  and 
the  result  was,  that  he  became  capable  of  appreciating 
the  cheerful  mind  of  Florentin,  and  that,  as  the  latter 
when  representing  the  charms,  especially  brought 
forward  the  human  principle,  he  also  took  this  prin 
ciple  as  the  ground  on  which  he  must  stand,  not  to 
float  away  into  boundless  space.  While  Florentin 
was  hastily  sketching  some  group  that  he  met, 


THE  JESUITS'   CHURCH.  149 

Berthold  took  the  opportunity  of  looking  into  his 
book,  and  tried  to  imitate  the  lovely  figure  of  Cath 
arine,  in  which  he  was  tolerably  successful,  although, 
as  at  Koine,  he  failed  in  giving  his  figures  the  ani 
mation  of  the  original.  He  complained  of  this  to 
Florentin,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  far  superior  in 
true  artistical  genius,  and  at  the  same  time  told  him 
all  that  the  Maltese  had  spoken  about  art.  l  The 
Maltese  is  right,  dear  brother  Berthold/  said  Floren 
tin,  '  and  I  rank  the  genuine  landscape  quite  as  high 
as  the  deeply  significant  sacred  histories  as  depicted 
by  the  old  masters.  Nay,  I  maintain  that  one 
ought  first  to  strengthen  oneself  by  the  representation 
of  that  organic  nature  which  is  nearest  to  us,  that 
we  may  be  able  to  find  light  for  her  darker  regions. 
I  advise  you,  Berthold,  to  practise  yourself  in  sketch 
ing  figures,  and  in  arranging  your  thoughts  in  them. 
Perhaps  by  this  means  you  will  gain  additional  light/ 
Berthold  acted  according  to  the  suggestion  of  his 
friend,  and  it  seemed  to  him,  as  if  the  dark  clouds 
which  spread  over  his  life  were  passing  away. 

"  'I  endeavored  to  represent  that,  which  seemed 
no  more  than  a  mere  obscure  feeling  in  my  inner 
most  soul,  by  hieroglyphic  characters,  as  I  had  done 
in  my  dream  ;  but  the  hieroglyphics  became  human 
figures,  which  moved  about  a  focus  of  light  in  strange 
combinations.  This  focus  was  to  be  the  noblest 
form  that  ever  was  evoked  by  a  painter's  fancy,  but 
I  vainly  endeavored,  when  this  form  appeared  to  me 


150  THE    TOKEN. 

in  a  dream,  surrounded  by  the  rays  of  heaven,  to 
catch  the  features.  Every  attempt  to  represent  it 
proved  an  utter  failure,  and  I  seemed  to  fade  away 
in  a  state  of  the  most  ardent  desire/  Florentin  per 
ceived  the  situation  of  his  friend,  who  was  excited  to 
a  morbid  degree,  and  gave  him  all  the  consolation  in 
his  power.  Often  did  he  tell  him  that  this  was  the 
very  time  when  illumination  would  break  upon  him  ; 
but  Berthold  merely  slunk  about  like  a  dreamer,  and 
all  his  attempts  were  but  the  feeble  efforts  of  a  puny 
child. 

"  In  the  vicinity  of  Naples  was  a  duke's  villa, 
from  which  there  was  the  finest  view  of  Vesuvius  and 
the  sea,  and  which,  on  this  account,  was  hospitably 
kept  open  for  foreign  artists,  especially  landscape 
painters.  Berthold  had  often  worked  here,  but  still 
oftener  in  a  grotto  in  the  park  had  he  given  himself 
up  to  his  fantastic  dreams.  One  day  he  was  sitting 
in  this  grotto  tortured  by  the  sense  of  longing,  that 
tore  his  bosom,  and  was  shedding  briny  tears,  hoping 
that  the  star  would  shine  upon  his  obscure  path, 
when  a  rustling  was  heard  in  the  hedges,  and  the 
form  of  an  exquisitely  beautiful  woman  was  before 
him. 

"  '  The  sunbeams  fell  upon  her  angelic  counte 
nance  :  she  cast  upon  me  an  indescribable  glance. 
It  was  Saint  Catharine.  No,  more  than  she,  it  was 
my  ideal.  Mad  with  transport  I  threw  myself  on 


CHURCH.  151 

the  ground,  and  the  form  vanished  with  a  benignant 
smile  !     My  most  ardent  prayer  was  realized. 

u  Florentin  entered  the  grotto,  and  was  surprised 
at  Berthold,  who,  with  beaming  countenance,  pressed 
him  to  his  heart,  while  the  tears  streamed  from  his 
eyes.  '  My  friend  !  my  friend  ! '  he  stammered 
forth  ;  '  I  am  happy — I  am  blessed — she  is  found — 
found ! '  He  hurried  to  his  atelier,  and  stretching 
the  canvas,  began  to  paint  as  if  inspired  by  divine 
power,  he  charmed  before  him  the  superterrestrial 
woman — for  so  he  thought  her — with  the  full  glow  of 
life.  From  this  moment  his  inmost  soul  was  entirely 
changed.  Far  from  feeling  that  melancholy  which 
preyed  upon  his  heart,  he  was  serene  and  cheerful. 
He  industriously  studied  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  the  old 
painters.  Many  of  his  copies  were  perfectly  success 
ful,  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  began  to  produce 
paintings  which  caused  astonishment  among  all  the 
connoisseurs.  As  for  landscapes,  they  were  no  more 
to  be  thought  of,  and  Hackert  himself  confessed  that 
the  youth  had  not  till  now  discovered  his  proper  vo 
cation.  He  had  to  paint  many  large  works,  such  as 
altar-pieces  for  churches,  and  generally  selected  the 
more  cheerful  subjects  of  Christian  tradition.  From 
all  of  these,  however,  the  noble  form  of  his  ideal 
beamed  forth.  It  was  discovered  that  the  face  and 

figure  of  the  Princess  Angiola  T were  represented 

to  the  life  ;  nay,  this  fact  was  communicated  to  the 
young  painter  himself,  and  knowing  folks  waggishly 


152  THE    TOKEN. 

insinuated    that    the   German  was  smitten    to  the 
heart   by   the    brilliant  eyes    of  the    lovely   dame. 
Berthold  was  highly  indignant  at  this  silly  gossip 
of  people  who  wished  to  lower  the  heavenly  into 
the  mere  earthy.     i  Do  you  believe/  he  said,  ( that 
such  a  being  could  wander  here  upon  earth  ?     No ; 
the    highest  was   revealed    in  a  wondrous  vision ; 
it  was  the  moment  when  the  artist   receives  con 
secration/     Berthold  lived  happy,  until  the  French 
army,    after    Bonaparte's   conquest   in    Italy,    ap 
proached  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  and  the  revolution, 
which  so  fearfully  destroyed  all  the  peaceful  rela 
tions  of  the  place,  broke  out.     The  king  and  queen 
had  left  Naples,  and  the  Citta  was  appointed.     The 
vicar-general  concluded  a  disgraceful  truce  with  the 
French  commander,  and  the  French  commissaries 
soon  came  to  receive  the  sums  that  were  to  be  paid 
them.      The  vicar-general  fled  to  escape  the  rage 
of  the  people,  who  believed  themselves  deserted  by 
the   Citta,  and,  in   short,  by  all  who  could  defend 
them  against  the  approaching  enemy.     Then  were 
all  the  bands  of  society  loosened.     The  people,  in  a 
state  of  wild  anarchy,  set  law  and  order  at  defiance, 
and  with  the   cry,   '  Viva  la   Santa   Fede  ! '    wild 
hordes  ran  through  the  streets  plundering  and  burn 
ing  the  houses  of  the  nobles,  who  they  thought  had 
sold  them  to  the  enemy.     Vain  were  the  endeavors 
of  Moliterno   and   Rocca   Romana,  who  were  the 
favorites  of  the  people,  and  had  been  elected  for 


THE   JESUITS'    CHURCH.  153 

leaders  :  vain  were  their  endeavors  to  restore  order. 
The  dukes  Delia  Torre  and  Clement  Filomarino  were 
murdered,  but  the  thirst  for  blood  among  the  rag 
ing  people  was  not  satisfied.  Berthold  had  just  been 
able  to  escape,  half-dressed,  from  a  burning  house, 
when  lie  met  a  mob,  that  with  kindled  torches  and 
glittering  knives,  was  hurrying  to  the  palace  of  the 

Duke  of  T .     These  madmen,  taking  him  for 

one  of  their  own  class,  carried  him  along  with  them, 
shouting,  e  Viva  la  Santa  Fede  ! '  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  duke,  the  servants,  every  one  who  re 
sisted,  were  murdered,  and  the  palace,  into  which 
Berthold  was  more  and  more  forced  by  the  throng, 
was  in  flames.  Thick  clouds  of  smoke  rolled  through 
the  long  passages.  Berthold,  in  danger  of  being 
burned  to  death,  darted  through  the  now  open  doors 
in  hopes  of  finding  an  outlet,  but  all  in  vain ;  a 
piercing  shriek  of  agony  struck  his  ear,  and  he 
rushed  into  the  hall.  A  woman  was  struggling 
with  a  Lazzarone,  who  held  her  fast,  and  was  about 
to  plunge  a  knife  in  her  heart.  It  was  the  princess 
— it  was  Berthold's  ideal !  Losing  all  consciousness 
with  horror,  he  sprang  towards  them,  and  it  was  but 
the  work  of  a  moment  to  seize  the  Lazzarone,  to 
fling  him  to  the  ground,  to  plunge  his  own  knife  in 
his  throat,  to  catch  the  princess  in  his  arms,  to  fly 
with  her  through  the  flaming  ruins,  to  dash  down 
the  steps,  and  to  go  on — on — through  the  dense 
crowd  of  people.  None  attempted  to  stop  him  in 
8  ' 


154  THE    TOKEN. 

his  flight.  With  the  bloody  knife  in  his  hand,  with 
his  face  begrimed  by  smoke,  with  his  clothes  torn, 
he  was  taken  for  a  plunderer  and  murderer  by  the 
people,  who  willingly  conceded  him  his  prey.  In  a 
deserted  corner  of  the  city,  beneath  an  old  wall,  to 
which  as  if  by  instinct  he  had  run  to  escape  danger, 
he  fell  exhausted.  On  recovering,  he  found  the 
princess  kneeling  at  his  side,  and  washing  his  fore 
head  with  cold  water.  {  0,  thanks  ! — thanks  ! ' 
said  she,  in  the  softest  and  most  lovely  voice ; 
c  thanks  to  the  saints  that  thou  hast  recovered,  my 
preserver,  my  all ! '  Berthold  raised  himself, — he 
fancied  he  was  dreaming,  he  looked  with  fixed  eyes 
upon  the  princess — yes,  it  was  herself — the  celestial 
form  which  had  kindled  the  divine  spark  in  his 
breast.  '  Is  it  possible  ? — Is  it  true  ? — Do  I  live  ? ' 
he  exclaimed.  'Yes/  replied  the  princess,  'thou 
livest  for  me.  That  which  thou  didst  not  venture 
even  to  hope,  has  happened  through  a  miracle.  Oh  ! 
I  know  thee  well, — thou  art  the  German  painter, 
Berthold,  who  loved  me,  and  ennobled  me  in  his 
beautiful  works.  Was  it  then  possible  for  me  to  be 
thine  ?  But  now  I  am  thine  for  ever — let  us  fly  ! ' 
A  strange  feeling,  as  when  a  sudden  pain  disturbs 
sweet  dreams,  darted  through  Berthold  as  the 
princess  spoke.  But  when  the  lovely  woman  clasped 
him  with  her  full,  snow-white  arms,  when  he  pressed 
her  passionately  to  his  bosom,  then  did  a  delicious 
trembling,  hitherto  unknown,  take  possession  of 


THE   JESUITS'   CHURCH.  155 

him,  and  in  the  mad  delight  of  possessing  the 
greatest  earthly  felicity,  he  cried  :  '  Oh,  it  was  no 
delirious  dream  !  No  !  it  is  my  wife  whom  I  em 
brace,  and  whom  I  will  never  leave  ! ' 

"  Escape  from  the  city  was  at  first  impossible, 
for  at  the  gate  stood  the  French  army,  whose  en 
trance  the  people,  although  badly  armed  and  with 
out  leaders,  were  able  to  dispute  for  two  days. 
Berthold,  however,  succeeded  in  flying  with  Angiola 
from  one  hiding-place  to  another,  and  at  last  out  of 
the  city.  Angiola,  deeply  enamored  of  him,  could 
not  think  of  remaining  in  Italy  ;  she  wished  her 
family  to  consider  her  dead,  that  Berthold' s  posses 
sion  of  her  might  be  secure.  A  diamond  necklace, 
and  some  valuable  things  which  she  wore,  were  suffi 
cient  to  provide  them  with  all  necessaries  at  Rome 
— whither  they  had  proceeded  by  slow  degrees — and 
they  arrived  happily  at  M ,  in  Southern  Ger 
many,  where  Berthold  intended  to  settle,  and  to 
support  himself  by  his  art.  Was  it  not  a  state  of 
felicity,  not  even  to  be  dreamed,  that  Angiola,  that 
creature  of  celestial  loveliness,  that  ideal  of  his  most 
delightful  visions,  now  become  his  own, — when  all 
social  laws  had  seemed  to  raise  an  insurmountable 
barrier  between  him  and  his  beloved  ?  Berthold 
could  hardly  comprehend  his  happiness,  he  was 
abandoned  to  inexpressible  delight,  until  the  inner 
voice  become  louder  and  louder,  urging  him  to 
think  of  his  art.  He  determined  to  found  his  fame 


156  THE    TOKEN. 

at   M by  a  large  picture  which  he  designed  for 

the  Maria  church  there.  The  whole  subject  was  to  be 
the  very  simple  one  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth  sitting 
on  the  grass  in  a  beautiful  garden,  with  the  infants 
Christ  and  John  playing  before  them  ;  but  all  his 
efforts  to  obtain  a  pure  spiritual  view  of  his  picture 
proved  fruitless.  As  in  that  unhappy  period  of  the 
crisis  the  forms  floated  away  from  him,  and  it  was 
not  the  heavenly  Mary — no,  it  was  an  earthly 
woman,  his  Angiola  herself,  fearfully  distorted,  that 
stood  before  the  eyes  of  his  mind.  He  fancied  that 
he  could  defy  the  gloomy  power  that  seemed  to 
grasp  him, — he  prepared  his  colors  and  began  to  paint ; 
but  his  strength  was  broken,  and  all  his  endeavors 
were  as  they  had  been  formerly — only  the  puny 
efforts  of  a  senseless  child.  Whatever  he  painted 
was  stiff  and  inanimate,  and  even  Angiola, — An 
giola  his  ideal,  became,  when  she  sat  to  him,  and  he 
tried  to  paint  her,  a  mere  wax  image  on  the  can 
vas,  staring  at  him  with  its  glassy  eyes.  His  soul 
became  more  and  more  the  prey  of  a  despondency, 
that  consumed  all  the  happiness  of  his  life.  He 
would  not,  nay,  he  could  not,  work  any  more  ;  and 
thus  he  fell  into  a  state  of  poverty,  which  was  the 
more  crushing,  because  Angiola  did  not  utter  a 
word  of  complaint. 

"  '  The  grief  that  gnawed  more  and  more  into 
my  soul,  that  grief  that  was  the  offspring  of  a  hope 
invariably  deceived,  when  I  summoned  powers  that 


THE   JKSUITS'   CHURCH.  157 

were  no  longer  mine,  soon  reduced  me  to  a  state 
that  might  be  compared  to  madness.  My  wife  bore 
me  a  son, — that  increased  my  misery,  and  my  long 
suppressed  discontent  broke  out  into  open,  burning 
hate.  She — she  alone  had  been  the  cause  of  my 
unhappiness.  She  was  not  the  ideal  which  had  ap 
peared  to  me,  but  had  only  assumed  the  form  and 
face  of  that  heavenly  woman.  In  wild  despair  I 
cursed  her  and  her  innocent  child.  I  wished  them 
both  dead,  that  I  might  be  free  from  the  insup 
portable  pains  that  tortured  me,  like  so  many  burn 
ing  knives.  Thoughts  of  hell  arose  in  my  mind. 
In  vain  did  I  read  in  Angiola's  corpse-like  face,  and 
in  her  tears,  the  madness  and  impiety  of  my  con 
duct.  (  Thou  hast  cheated  me  out  of  my  life,  cursed 
woman  ! '  I  thundered  forth,  and  thrust  her  away 
with  my  feet,  when  she  fell  fainting  to  the  ground 
and  clasped  my  knees/ 

"  Berthold's  mad,  cruel  conduct  towards  his 
wife  and  child  excited  the  attention  of  the  neigh 
bors,  who  informed  the  magistrates  of  the  circum 
stance.  They  wished  to  imprison  him  ;  but  when 
the  police  entered  his  dwelling,  he  had  vanished 
with  his  wife  and  child,  without  leaving  so  much  as 
a  trace  behind.  Soon  afterwards  he  appeared  at 

N ,  in  Upper  Silesia  ;  he  had  got  rid  of  his  wife 

and  child,  and  cheerfully  began  to  paint  the  picture 
which  he  had  vainly  attempted  at  M .  How 
ever,  he  could  only  finish  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  the 


158  THE    TOKEN. 

children — Christ  and  John — for  he  fell  into  a  dread 
ful  illness,  which  brought  him  near  the  death  he 
desired.  Every  thing  that  belonged  to  him,  includ 
ing  the  unfinished  picture,  was  sold  for  his  subsist 
ence  ;  and,  after  he  had  recovered,  in  some  measure, 
he  departed,  a  sick,  miserable  beggar.  He  after 
wards  gained  a  poor  livelihood  by  a  few  jobs  of  wall- 
painting/' 

"  There  is  something  terrible  in  the  history  of 
Berthold,"  said  I  to  the  professor.  "  Although  so 
much  is  not  plainly  expressed,  I  believe  that  he 
was  the  reckless  murderer  of  his  innocent  wife  and 
child." 

"  He  is  a  mad  fool,"  replied  the  professor,  "  to 
whom  I  do  not  give  credit  for  enough  courage  to 
perform  such  an  act.  On  this  point  he  never  speaks 
plainly  ;  and  the  question  is,  whether  it  be  not  a 
mere  fancy  that  he  took  any  part  in  the  death  of 
his  wife  and  child.  He  now  returns  to  painting 
marble  ;  and  this  very  night  he  will  finish  the  altar. 
This  puts  him  in  a  good-humor,  and  you  may  learn 
something  about  this  critical  affair  from  his  own 
mouth." 

I  must  confess  that  the  thought  of  passing  mid 
night  in  the  church  alone  with  Berthold  made  me 
shudder  a  little,  now  I  had  read  his  history.  I 
thought  that  there  might  be  a  little  of  tho  devil  in 
him  in  spite  of  his  good-humor  and  frank  deport- 


159 


ment  ;  and  I  chose  rather  to  be  in  his  company 
that  very  noon  in  the  clear  sunlight. 

I  found  him  upon  the  scaffold,  reserved  and  in 
an  ill-humor,  painting  the  veins  of  marble.  Climb 
ing  up  to  him,  I  reached  him  the  pots,  while  he 
stared  at  me  with  amazement.  "  I  am  your  help 
mate,"  said  I  softly,  and  this  drew  a  smile  from  him. 
Now  I  began  to  talk  of  his  life,  so  as  to  let  him 
know  that  I  was  acquainted  with  all ;  and  he  seemed 
to  believe  that  he  himself  had,  on  that  night,  com 
municated  every  thing.  Very,  very  gently  I  came 
to  the  frightful  catastrophe,  and  then  said  suddenly 
— "  Did  you  actually,  in  your  unholy  madness, 
murder  your  wife  and  child  ?  " 

At  this  he  let  the  paint-pot  and  the  pencil  fall ; 
and,  staring  at  me  with  a  hideous  countenance,  as 
he  raised  both  his  hands,  cried  out,  "  No,  these  hands 
are  unstained  by  the  bloood  of  my  wife — of  my  son ! 
Another  such  word,  and  I  will  dash  myself  down 
from  the  scaffolding  with  you,  so  that  both  our 
heads  shall  be  shattered  on  the  stone  floor  of  the 
church." 

At  this  moment  I  felt  my  situation  rather  odd, 
and  deemed  it  advisable  to  change  the  subject. 
"Look  here,  dear  Bert  hold,"  said  I,  as  quietly  and 
coolly  as  possible  ;  "see  how  that  ugly  dark  yellow 
is  running  on  the  wall." 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  the  spot,  and  while  he 
painted  out  the  yellow,  I  slipped  gently  down  the 


160  THE   TOKEN. 

scaffold,  left  the  church,  and  went  to  the  professor, 
to  have  a  hearty  laugh  at  my  well-chastised  pre 
sumption. 

My  vehicle  was  repaired,  and  I  left  G ,  after 

Professor  Aloysius  Walter  had  solemnly  promised 
that  in  case  any  thing  happened  to  Berthold,  he 
would  communicate  it  in  writing  immediately. 

Ahout  half  a  year  elapsed,  when  I  actually  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  the  professor.  He  expressed  him 
self  in  very  prolix  terms  of  praise  about  our  meeting 
at  G— • — ,  and  wrote  as  follows  about  Berthold  : — 
"  Soon  after  your  departure  affairs  took  a  singular 
turn  with  our  whimsical  painter.  He  became  sud 
denly  quite  cheerful,  and  finished,  in  the  most  splendid 
style,  the  great  altar-piece,  which  is  now  the  wonder 
of  every  body.  He  then  vanished  ;  and  as  he  took 
nothing  with  him,  and  a  few  days  afterwards  we 

found  a  hat  and  stick  lying  near  the  0 stream, 

we  are  all  of  opinion  that  he  met  a  voluntary 
death/ 


THE  CAMPAGNA  OF  FLOKENCB. 

'Tis  morning.     Let  us  wander  through  the  fields, 
Where  CIMABUE  found  a  shepherd-boy 
Tracing  his  idle  fancies  on  the  ground  ; 
And  let  us  from  the  top  of  FIESOLE, 
Whence  GALILEO'S  glass  by  night  observed 
The  phases  of  the  moon,  look  round  below 
On  ARNO'S  vale,  where  the  dove-colored  steer 
Is  ploughing  up  and  down  among  the  vines, 
While  many  a  careless  note  is  sung  aloud, 
Filling  the  air  with  sweetness — and  on  thee, 
Beautiful  FLORENCE  !  all  within  thy  walls, 
Thy  groves  and  gardens,  pinnacles  and  towers, 
Drawn  to  our  feet. 

For  that  small  spire,  just  caught 
By  the  bright  ray,  that  church  among  the  rest 
By  one  of  old  distinguished  as  The  Bride, 
Let  us  in  thought  pursue  (what  can  we  better  ?) 
Those  who  assembled  there  at  matin-time  ; 
Who,  when  vice  revelled  and  along  the  street 
Tables  were  set,  what  time  the  bearer's  bell 
Eang  to  demand  the  dead  at  every  door, 
8* 


162  THE    TOKEN. 

Came  out  into  the  meadows ;  and,  a  while 
Wandering  in  idleness,  but  not  in  folly. 
Sate  down  in  the  high  grass  and  in  the  shades 
Of  many  a  tree  sun-proof — day  after  day, 
When  all  was  still  and  nothing  to  be  heard 
But  the  cicala's  voice  among  the  olives, 
Kelating  in  a  ring,  to  banish  care, 
Their  hundred  tales. 

Hound  the  green  hill  they  went, 
Eound,  underneath — first  to  a  splendid  house, 
Grherardi,  as  an  old  tradition  runs, 
That  on  the  left,  just  rising  from  the  vale  ; 
A  place  for  luxury — the  painted  rooms, 
The  open  galleries  and  middle  court, 
Not  unprepared,  fragrant  and  gay  with  flowers. 
Then  westward  to  another,  nobler  yet ; 
That  on  the  right,  now  known  as  the  Palmieri, 
Where  Art  with  Nature  vied — a  Paradise 
With  verdurous  walls,  and  many  a  trellised  walk 
All  rose  and  jasmine,  many  a  twilight-glade 
Crossed  by  the  deer.     Then  to  the  Ladies'  Vale  ; 
And  the  clear  lake,  that  as  by  magic  seemed 
To  lift  up  to  the  surface  every  stone 
Of  lustre  there,  and  the  diminutive  fish 
Innumerable,  dropt  with  crimson  and  gold, 
Now  motionless,  now  glancing  to  the  sun. 

Who  has  not  dwelt  on  their  voluptuous  day  ? 
The  morning  banquet  by  the  fountain-side, 
While  the  small  birds  rejoiced  on  every  bough  ; 


THE  CAMPAGNA  OF  FLORENCE.       163 

The  dance  that  followed,  and  the  noontide  slum 
ber; 

Then  the  tales  told  in  turn,  as  round  they  lay 
On  carpets,  the  fresh  waters  murmuring ; 
And  the  short  interval  of  pleasant  talk 
Till  supper-time,  when  many  a  siren-voice 
Sung  down  the  stars  ;  and,  as  they  left  the  sky, 
The  torches,  planted  in  the  sparkling  grass, 
And  everywhere  among  the  glowing  flowers, 
Burnt  bright   and  brighter. — He  whose  dream  it 

was 

(It  was  no  more)  sleeps  in  a  neighboring  vale  ; 
Sleeps  in  the  church,  where  in  his  ear,  I  ween, 
The  friar  poured  out  his  wondrous  catalogue  ; 
A  ray,  imprimis,  of  the  star  that  shone 
To  the  Wise  Men  ;  a  vial-full  of  sounds, 
The  musical  chimes  of  the  great  bells  that  hung 
In  SOLOMON'S  Temple  ;  and  though  last  not  least, 
A  feather  from  the  Angel  GABRIEL'S  wing, 
Dropt  in  the  Virgin's  chamber.     That  dark  ridge, 
Stretching  south-east,  conceals  it  from  our  sight ; 
Not  so  his  lowly  roof  and  scanty  farm, 
His  copse  and  rill,  if  yet  a  trace  be  left, 
Who  lived  in  Val  di  Pesa,  suffering  long 
Want  and  neglect  and  (far,  far  worse)  reproach, 
With   calm,    unclouded   mind.       The   glimmering 

tower 

On  the  gray  rock  beneath,  his  landmark  once, 
Now  serves  for  ours,  and  points  out  where  he  ate 


164  THE    TOKEN. 

His  bread  with  cheerfulness.     Who  sees  him  not 
(Tis  his  own  sketch — he  drew  it  from  himself) 
Laden  with  cages  from  his  shoulder  slung, 
And  sallying  forth,  while  yet  the  morn  is  gray, 
To  catch  a  thrush  on  every  lime-twig  there  ; 
Or  in  the  wood  among  his  wood-cutters ; 
Or  in  the  tavern  by  the  highway-side 
At  tric-trac  with  the  miller  ;  or  at  night, 
Doffing  his  rustic  suit,  and,  duly  clad, 
Entering  his  closet,  and,  among  his  books, 
Among  the  great  of  every  age  and  clime, 
A  numerous  court,  turning  to  whom  he  pleased, 
Questioning  each  why  he  did  this  or  that, 
And  learning  how  to  overcome  the  fear 
Of  poverty  and  death  ? 

Nearer  we  hail 

Thy  sunny  slope,  ARCETRI,  sung  of  old 
For  its  green  wine  ;  dearer  to  me,  to  most, 
As  dwelt  on  by  that  great  astronomer, 
Seven  years  a  prisoner  at  the  city-gate, 
Let  in  but  in  his  grave-clothes.     Sacred  be 
His  villa  (justly  was  it  called  The  Gem  !) 
Sacred  the  lawn,  where  many  a  cypress  threw 
Its  length  of  shadow,  while  he  watched  the  stars  I 
Sacred  the  vineyard,  where,  while  yet  his  sight 
Glimmered,  at  blush  of  morn  he  dressed  his  vines, 
Chanting  aloud  in  gayety  of  heart 
Some  verse  of  ARIOSTO  ! — There  unseen, 
In  manly  beauty  MILTON  stood  before  him, 


THE  CAMPAGNA  OF  FLOEENCE,      165 

Gazing  with  reverent  awe — MILTON,  his  guest, 

Just  then  come  forth,  all  life  and  enterprise  ; 

He  in  his  old  age  and  extremity, 

Blind,  at  noon- day  exploring  with  his  staff  j 

His  eyes  upturned  as  to  the  golden  sun, 

His  eyeballs  idly  rolling.     Little  then 

Did  GALILEO  think  whom  he  received  ; 

That  in  his  hand  he  held  the  hand  of  one 

Who   could   requite   him — who   would   spread  his 

name 

O'er  lands  and  seas— great  as  himself,  nay  greater  ; 
MILTON  as  little  that  in  him  he  saw, 
As  in  a  glass,  what  he  himself  should  be, 
Destined  so  soon  to  fall  on  evil  days 
And  evil  tongues — so  soon,  alas  !   to  live 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compassed  round, 
And  solitude. 

Well  pleased,  could  we  pursue 
The  AKNO,  from  his  birthplace  in  the  clouds, 
So  near  the  yellow  TIBER'S — springing  up 
From  his  four  fountains  on  the  Apennine, 
That  mountain-ridge  a  sea-mark  to  the  ships 
Sailing  on  either  sea.     Downward  he  runs, 
Scattering  fresh  verdure  through  the  desolate  wild, 
Down  by  the  City  of  Hermits,  and  the  woods 
That  only  echo  to  the  choral  hymn  ; 
Then  through  these  gardens  to  the  TUSCAN  sea, 
Keflecting  castles,  convents,  villages, 
And  those  great  rivals  in  an  elder  day, 


166  THE    TOKEN. 

FLORENCE  and  PISA — who  have  given  him  fame, 
Fame  everlasting,  but  who  stained  so  oft 
His  troubled  waters.     Oft,  alas  !  were  seen, 
When  flight,  pursuit,  and  hideous  rout  were  there, 
Hands,  clad  in  gloves  of  steel,  held  up  imploring ; 
The  man,  the  hero,  on  his  foaming  steed 
Borne  underneath,  already  in  the  realms      .*..  » 
Of  darkness. — Nor  did  night  or  burning  noon 
Bring  respite.     Oft,  as  that  great  artist  saw, 
Whose  pencil  had  a  voice,  the  cry  "  To  arms  ! " 
And  the  shrill  trumpet  hurried  up  the  bank 
Those  who  had  stolen  an  hour  to  breast  the  tide, 
And  wash  from  their  unharnessed  limbs  the  blood 
And  sweat  of  battle.     Sudden  was  the  rush, 
Violent  the  tumult ;  for,  already  in  sight, 
Nearer  and  nearer  yet  the  danger  drew  ; 
Each  every  sinew  straining,  every  nerve, 
Each  snatching  up,  and  girding,  buckling  on 
Morion  and  greave  and  shirt  of  twisted  mail, 
As  for  his  life — no  more  perchance  to  taste, 
ARNO,  the  grateful  freshness  of  thy  glades, 
Thy  waters — where,  exulting,  he  had  felt 
A  swimmer's  transport,  there,  alas  !  to  float 
And  welter. — Nor  between  the  gusts  of  war, 
When  flocks  were  feeding,  and  the  shepherd's  pipe 
Gladdened  the  valley, — when,  but  not  unarmed, 
The    sower   came   forth,    and   following   him    that 

ploughed, 
Threw  in  the  seed, — did  thy  indignant  waves 


THE   CAMPAGNA   OF   FLORENCE.  167 

Escape  pollution.     Sullen  was  the  splash, 

Heavy  and  swift  the  plunge,  when  they  received 

The  key  that  just  had  grated  on  the  ear 

Of  UGOLINO,  ever  closing  up 

That  dismal  dungeon  thenceforth  to  be  named 

The  Tower  of  Famine. — Once  indeed  'twas  thine, 

When  many  a  winter-flood,  thy  tributary, 

Was  through  its  rocky  glen  rushing,  resounding, 

And  thou  wert  in  thy  might,  to  save,  restore 

A  charge  most  precious.     To  the  nearest  ford, 

Hastening,  a  horseman  from  Arezzo  came, 

Careless,  impatient  of  delay,  a  babe 

Slung  in  a  basket  to  the  knotty  staff 

That  lay  athwart  his  saddle-bow.     He  spurs, 

He  enters  ;  and  his  horse,  alarmed,  perplexed, 

Halts  in  the  midst.     Great  is  the  stir,  the  strife ; 

And,  lo  !  an  atom  on  that  dangerous  sea, 

The  babe  is  floating  !     Fast  and  far  he  flies  ; 

Now    tempest-rocked,    now    whirling    round    and 

round 

But  not  to  perish.     By  thy  willing  waves 
Borne  to  the  shore,  among  the  bulrushes 
The  ark  has  rested  ;  and  unhurt,  secure 
As  on  his  mother's  breast,  he  sleeps  within, 
All  peace  !  or  never  had  the  nations  heard 
That  voice  so  sweet,  which  still  enchants,  inspires ; 
That  voice,  which  sung  of  love,  of  liberty. 
PETRARCH  lay  there  ! — And  such  the  images 
That  here  spring  up  forever,  in  the  young 


168  THE    TOKEN. 

Kindling  poetic  fire  !      Such  they  that  came 
And  clustered  round  our  MILTON,  when  at  eve, 
Eeclined  beside  thee,  ARNO  ;  when  at  eve, 
Led  on  by  thee,  he  wandered  with  delight, 
Framing  Ovidian  verse,  and  through  thy  groves 
Gathering  wild  myrtle.     Such  the  poet's  dreams  ; 
Yet  not  such  only.     For,  look  round  and  say, 
Where  is  the  ground  that   did   not   drink   warm 

blood, 

The  echo  that  had  learnt  not  to  articulate 
The  cry  of  murder  ? — Fatal  was  the  day 
To  FLORENCE,  when  ('twas  in  a  narrow  street 
North  of  that  temple,  where  the  truly  great 
Sleep,  not  unhonored,  not  unvisited  ; 
That  temple  sacred  to  the  Holy  Cross — 
There  is  the  house — that  house  of  the  DONATI, 
Towerless,  and  left  long  since,  but  to  the  last 
Braving  assault — all  rugged,  all  embossed 
Below,  and  still  distinguished  by  the  rings 
Of  brass,  that  held  in  war  and  festival-time 
Their  family-standards) — fatal  was  the  day 
To  Florence,  when,  at  morn,  at  the  ninth  hour, 
A  noble  darne  in  weeds  of  widowhood, 
Weeds  by  so  many  to  be  worn  so  soon, 
Stood  at  her  door .;  and,  like  a  sorceress,  flung 
Her  dazzling  spell.     Subtle  she  was,  "and  rich, 
Kich  in  a  hidden  pearl  of  heavenly  light, 
Her  daughter's  beauty .;  and  too  well  she  knew 
Its  virtue  !     Patiently  she  stood  and  watched  ; 


THE   CAMPAGNA    OF   FLORENCE.  169 

Nor  stood  alone — but  spoke  not. — In  her  breast 
Her  purpose  lay  ;  and,  as  a  youth  passed  by, 
Clad  for  the  nuptial  rite,  she  smiled  and  said, 
Lifting  a  corner  of  the  maiden's  veil, 
"  This  had  I  treasured  up  in  secret  for  thee. 
This  hast  thou  lost ! "    He  gazed  and  was  undone  ! 
Forgetting — not  forgot — he  broke  the  bond, 
And  paid  the  penalty,  losing  his  life 
At  the  bridge-foot ;  and  hence  a  world  of  woe ! 
Vengeance  for  vengeance  crying,  blood  for  blood  ; 
No  intermission  !     Law,  that  slumbers  not, 
And,  like  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword, 
Sits  over  all,  at  once  chastising,  healing, 
Himself  the  avenger,  went ;  and  every  street 
Ran   red   with    mutual    slaughter — though   some 
times 

The  young  forgot  the  lesson  they  had  learnt, 
And    loved    when   they   should    hate — like    thee, 

IMELDA, 

Thee  and  thy  PAOLO.     When  last  ye  met 
In  that  still  hour  (the  heat,  the  glare  was  gone, 
Not  so  the  splendor — through  the  cedar-grove 
A  radiance  streamed  like  a  consuming  fire/ 
As  though  the  glorious  orb,  in  its  descent, 
Had  come  and  rested  there) — when  last  ye  met, 
And  thy  relentless  brothers  dragged  him  forth, 
It  had  been  well  hadst  thou  slept  on,  IMELDA, 
Nor  from  thy  trance  of  fear  awaked,  as  night 
Fell  on  that  fatal  spot,  to  wish  thee  dead, 


170  THE    TOKEN. 

To  track  him  by  his  blood,  to  search,  to  find, 
Then  fling  thee  down  to  catch  a  word,  a  look, 
A  sigh,  if  yet  thou  couldst  (alas  !  thou  couldst 

not), 

And  die,  unseen,  unthought  of — from  the  wound 
Sucking  the  poison. 

Yet  when  slavery  came, 

Worse  followed.     Genius,  Valor  left  the  land, 
Indignant — all  that  had  from  age  to  age 
Adorned,  ennobled  ',  and  headlong  they  fell, 
Tyrant  and  slave.     For  deeds  of  violence, 
Done  in  broad  day  and  more  than  half  redeemed 
By  many  a  great  and  generous  sacrifice 
Of  self  to  others,  came  the  unpledged  bowl, 
The  stab  of  the  stiletto.     Gliding  by 
Unnoticed,  in  slouched  hat  and  muffling  cloak, 
That  just  discovered,  Caravaggio-like, 
A  swarthy  cheek,  black  brow,  and  eye  of  flame 
The  bravo  stole,  and  o'er  the  shoulder  plunged 
To  the  heart's  core,  or  from  beneath  the  ribs 
Slanting  (a  surer  path,  as  some  averred) 
Struck  upward — then  slunk  off,  or,  if  pursued, 
Made  for  the  sanctuary,  and  there  along 
The  glimmering  aisle  among  the  worshippers 
Wandered  with  restless  step  and  jealous  look, 
Dropping  thick  blood. — Misnamed  to  lull  alarm, 
In  every  palace  was  The  Laboratory, 
Where  he  within  brewed  poisons  swift  and  slow, 
That  scattered  terror  till  all  things  seemed  poison 
ous, 


THE  CAMPAGNA  OF  FLO  HENCE.       171 

And  brave  men  trembled  if  a  band  held  out 
A  nosegav  or  a  letter  ;  while  the  great 
Drank  only  from  the  Venice-glass,  that  broke, 
That  shivered,  scattering  round  it  as  in  scorn, 
If  aught  malignant,  aught  of  thine  was  there, 
Cruel  TOPHANA  ;  and  pawned  provinces 
For  that  miraculous  gem,  the  gem  that  gave 
A  sign  infallible  of  coming  ill, 
That  clouded  though  the  vehicle  of  death 
Were  an  invisible  perfume.     Happy  then 
The  guest  to  whom  at  sleeping-time  'twas  said, 
But  in  an  under  voice  (a  lady's  page 
Speaks  in  no  louder),  "  Pass  not  on.     That  door 
Leads  to  another  which  awaits  thy  coming, 
One  in  the  floor — now  left,  alas  !  unlocked. 
No  eye  detects  it — lying  under-foot, 
Just  as  thou  enterest,  at  the  threshold-stone  ; 
Heady  to  fall  and  plunge  thee  into  night 
And  long  oblivion  !  " — In  that  evil  hour 
Where  lurked  not  danger  ?      Through  the  fairy 
land 

No  seat  of  pleasure  glittering  half-way  down, 
No  hunting-place — but  with  some  damning  spot 
That  will  not  be  washed  out  !     There,  at  Caiano, 
Where,  when  the  hawks  were  mewed  and  evening 

came, 

PULCI  would  set  the  table  in  a  roar 
With   his   wild    lay — there,    where    the    sun   de 
scends, 


172  THE  TOKEN. 

And  hill  and  dale  are  lost,  veiled  with  his  beams, 
The  fair  Venetian  died,  she  and  her  lord — 
Died  of  a  posset  drugged  by  him  who  sate 
And  saw  them  suffer,  flinging  back  the  charge ; 
The  murderer  on  the  murdered. — sobs  of  grief, 
Sounds  inarticulate  .  .  suddenly  stopt, 
And  followed  by  a  struggle  and  a  gasp, 
A  gasp  in  death,  are  heard  yet  in  Cerreto, 
Along  the  marble  halls  and  staircases, 
Nightly  at  twelve  ;  and,  at  the  self-same  hour, 
Shrieks,  such  as  penetrate  the  inmost  soul, 
Such  as  awake  the  innocent  babe  to  long, 
Long  wailing,  echo  through  the  emptiness 
Of  that  old  den  far  up  among  the  hills, 
Frowning  on  him  who  comes  from  Pietra-Mala  : 
In  them,  alas !  within  five  days  and  less, 
Two  unsuspecting  victims,  passing  fair, 
Welcomed  with  kisses,  and  slain  cruelly, 
One  with  the  knife,  one  with  the  fatal  noose. 

But,  lo !  the  sun  is  setting  ;  earth  and  sky 
One  blaze  of  glory. — What  we  saw  but  now, 
As  though  it  were  not,  though  it  had  not  been  ! 
He  lingers  yet ;  and,  lessening  to  a  point, 
Shines  like  the  eye  of  Heaven — then  withdraws  ; 
And  from  the  zenith  to  the  utmost  skirts 
All  is  celestial  red !     The  hour  is  come 
When  they  that  sail  along  the  distant  seas 
Languish  for  home  ;  and  they  that  in  the  morn 
Said  to  sweet  friends  "farewell"  melt  as  at  part 
ing  ; 


THE   CAMPAGNA   OF   FLORENCE.  173 

When,  just  gone  forth,  the  pilgrim,  if  he  hears, 
As  now  we  hear  it,  wandering  round  the  hill, 
The  bell  that  seems  to  mourn  the  dying  day, 
Slackens  his  pace  and  sighs,  and  those  he  loved 
Loves  more  than  ever.     But  who  feels  it  not  ? 
And  well  may  we,  for  we  are  far  away. 


CLAUDE  ROVANI. 

BY    THE    HON.  MRS.  ERSKINE    NORTON 

Fearful,  and  horrible,  and  dear  thou  art; 
Both  heaven  and  hell  are  in  thee! 

JOANNA  BAILLIE. 

GARCIO  LOREZANO,  a  nobleman,  senator  and 
councillor  of  Venice,  in  her  most  palmy  days,  was 
seated  with  his  daughter,  the  young  and  beautiful 
Antonia,  on  a  fair  summer's  eve,  beneath  a  gar 
landed  bower,  in  the  garden  of  his  magnificent  man 
sion  at  Venice. 

Lorezano  had  married  late  :  he  was  now  an  old 
man,  but  the  winter  of  his  life  though  "  frosty,  was 
kindly  ; "  his  hairs  were  few  and  white,  but  his 
keen  eye  yet  flashed  with  intellectual  vigor,  and 
untamable  spirit.  In  Venice  he  was  esteemed  and 
feared. 

Antonia,  in  consequence  of  the  early  death  of 
her  mother,  had  been  brought  up  by  that  mother's 
widowed  and  childless  sister,  living  in  retirement  at 
a  short  distance  from  Venice,  and  whose  small  cir 
cle  of  society  included  only  the  most  noble  or  the 
most  gifted.  Antonia  had  but  lately  arrived  in 


ECAJST  sir  COST 


CLAUDE   EOVANI.  175 

Venice  to  take  her  station  at  the  head  of  her 
father's  house,— his  only  child  and  representative, 
and  sole  heir  to  his  great  wealth.  Numberless 
suitors,  among  whom  was  included  a  son  of  the  Doge, 
had  become  competitors  for  her  hand  ;  but  Antonia 
herself  had  hitherto  shown  no  preference,  and  her 
father  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  part  from  her  :  their 
position  appeared  and  indeed  was,  an  enviable  one, 
although  a  thorn  (as  usual)  lurked  beneath  the  full 
blown  rose  of  their  happiness.  On  that  thorn  their 
conversation  touched. 

"  Plead  not  for  him  ! "  continued  the  old  man  ; 
"  plead  not  for  him,  Antonia  ! — not  even  from  you 
will  I  listen  to  a  word  of  mediation  ;  although  he  be 
the  son  of  my  sister,  my  only  and  beloved  sister,  he 
is  an  alien  to  my  house  and  heart  for  ever.  I  would 
not — no,  as  I  am  a  true  Venetian,  I  would  not 
stretch  out  this  arm  to  save  him,  although  I  saw 
him,  where  you  are  now,  at  my  feet,  and  perishing 
with  want — no,  though  he  spoke  with  my  sister's 
voice,  and  looked  with  her  eyes  !  A  ruined  gam 
bler—" 

"  His  fortune,"  gently  interposed  Antonia,  "  was 
not  large,  and  he  was  imposed  upon  by  evil  and  de 
signing  men." 

"  A  midnight  brawler,  committing  murder  in  our 
streets." 

"  He  killed,  in  a  fair  fight,  the  false  friend  who 
had  deceived  and  robbed  him ;  unhappily  the 


176  THE    TOKEN. 

traitor  belonged  to  the  most  powerful  family  of 
Venice." 

"  And  then  to  herd  with  the  scum  of  the  earth, 
and  turn  his  puny  arms  against  the  land  that  bore 
him  !  " 

"  He  was  exiled,  he  thought  unjustly ;  he  de 
manded  his  remaining  property,  it  was  refused  :  des 
pair  has  driven  him  to  his  present  course." 

"  And  let  despair  be  his  portion,  in  this  world  at 
least  !  Time  might  have  seared  over  his  first  offen 
ces,  and  restored  him  to  his  country  ;  but  to  raise  a 
finger  against  Venice  ! — to  look  at  her  even  with  a 
menace  on  his  brow  ! — girl,  his  death  is  but  a  poor 
retribution  !  " 

"  It  seems  he  wishes  for  death  ;  he  prefers  it  to 
exile.  Remember  Jacob  Foscari  ! — the  sternest  of 
our  patriots  cannot  deny  a  sigh  to  his  memory.  0 
my  father !  you  are  too  severe  ;  there  is  neither  mer 
cy  nor  justice  in  all  this/' 

"  Indeed  !  and  what  is  it  you  wish  ? — what 
would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

Antonia,  deceived  by  the  veiled  irony  of  her  fa 
ther's  manner,  earnestly  replied  :  "  Let  him  have  a 
word  of  hope  and  sympathy  from  us  ;  let  him  have 
the  means  of  entering  some  foreign  service  according 
to  his  rank.  I  will  vouch  for  Claude  Rovani  that  he 
will  soon  make  Venice  proud  of  her  discarded  son, 
and  eager  to  receive  and  pardon  him.  Do  this,  my 
father  !  " 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  177 

There  was  a  pause  ;  at  length  the  old  man 
spoke  : — 

"  Is  it  my  child,  my  only  child,  who  would  bring 
dishonor  on  her  father's  gray  hairs,  by  drawing  him 
into  a  secret  and  friendly  communication  with  an 
outlawed  traitor  ?  Is  it  my  only  child  who  would 
expose  my  few  remaining  days  to  danger  for  the 
sake  of  a  worthless  and  ungrateful  boy  ?  " 

"  My  father,  forbear  I  beseech  you  !  "  exclaimed 
the  horror-struck  Antonia.  "  It  is  not  thus  I  mean 
it — you  know  I  do  not  ;  what  might  be  done,  I 
thought  could  be  done  in  all  safety  and  honor." 

"  Neither  in  safety  nor  in  honor,  Antonia."  Then 
looking  at  her  suspiciously,  he  added  :  "  How  long 
is  it  since  you  have  seen  your  cousin  ?  " 

"  Three  years,  my  lord,  this  very  day.  He  had 
spent  some  weeks  at  my  aunt's,  and  left  us  for  Yen- 
ice  ;  six  months  afterwards  he  was  banished/' 

"  During  those  six  months  did  he  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Frequently  ;  you  have  seen  some  of  his  letters." 

"  And  did  your  aunt  see  them  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  signor,"  replied  Antonia,  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 

"  Let  me  consider,"  continued  her  father  ;  "  three 
years  since — you  were  then  but  thirteen — a  mere 
child.  Is  your  recollection  of  your  cousin  very 
strong  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  I  see  him  now  !  with  an  eye  like 
an  eagle's,  and  the  step  of  a  bounding  deer  ;  a  brow 
9 


178  THE    TOKEN. 

open  and  manly,  as  your  own.  He  resembled  you, 
my  father,  especially  when  he  frowned  and  smiled; 
and  (I  must  say  it,  because  I  am  sure  of  it)  he  loved 
and  reverenced  you  as  I  do.  Then,  too,  with  all 
his  life,  courage,  and  intellect,  with  all  his  careless 
boldness,  and  buoyant  spirits,  how  respectful  to  our 
aunt  !  how  mindful  of  her  comfort  !  how  patient  with 
her  infirmities  !  but  to  me — oh  !  to  me — "  (Antonia 
burst  into  tears) — "  My  poor  cousin  !  my  dear,  dear 
Claude  ! " 

Her  father  rose  and  stood  erect  before  her  :  "  An 
tonia  !  "  she  looked  up  :  "  this  is  the  first  time  the 
name  of  the  recreant  Kovani,  since  his  proscription, 
has  passed  between  us  :  mark  me  !  it  must  be  the 
last.  I  am  willing  to  believe  thee  misled  by  thy 
youth  and  natural  goodness  thus  far  to  have  inno 
cently  pleaded  for  the  unworthy,  but  I  warn  thee, 
tempt  me  no  further  !  Thou  deemest  me  severe  to 
my  sister's  child  ;  thou  hast  yet  to  learn  that  it  is  in 
niy  nature  to  be  as  severe  to  my  own,  should  justice 
and  the  safety  of  my  country  require  it.  In  Rovani 
I  acknowledge  but  a  traitor — a  reckless,  bold,  de 
signing  traitor,  destroying  the  peace  and  security  of 
Venice  :  for,  know,  that  within  these  few  days  our 
capital  is  filled  with  his  emissaries  ;  no  individual  or 
family  is  safe  ;  the  blow  falls  in  the  dark,  and  in  the 
night — on  the  land  and  on  the  water — in  the  private 
chamber,  and  in  the  public  walk  ;  placards  are  post 
ed  up  by  invisible  hands.,  proclaiming  that  the  dag- 


CLAUDE  KOVANI.  179 

ger  shall  not  be  sheathed  until  all  who  voted  for  the 
banishment  of  Claude  Rovani  are  no  more.  And 
will  he  stop  there  ?  You  look  terrified,  Antonia  ; 
you  were  not  aware  to  what  a  head  this  evil  has  aris 
en.  I  have  shielded  you  from  the  knowledge  of  it ; 
but  I  now  think  it  right  to  tell  you  all — to  tell  you 
that  Venice  harbors  in  her  bosom  a  nest  of  vipers, 
warmed  into  life  by  the  treacherous  and  revengeful 
Rovani,  and  that  the  government,  secret  and  power 
ful  as  it  is,  has  hitherto  striven  in  vain  to  crush,  or 
even  to  trace  them.  I  did  not  vote  for  the  banish 
ment  of  the  offender,  being  unfortunately  absent  at 
the  time  ;  but  on  my  return,  I  publicly  approved 
of  the  sentence.  Nevertheless,  rest  assured  that  the 
government  at  this  crisis  will  have  its  eye  upon  us. 
Be  on  your  guard,  Antonia  ;  not  only  suppress,  but 
change  your  sentiments  ;  let  not  his  name  be  breath 
ed  with  an  accent  of  pity,  even  in  the  most  secret 
recesses  of  your  chamber  ;  drive  him  not  only  from 
your  heart,  but  from  your  memory  :  your  cousin 
Claude  is  dead  ;  it  is  the  traitor  Rovani  alone  that 
lives ;  therefore,  think  only  of  what  is  due  to  your 
country,  to  your  father,  and  to  yourself  ! "  The  old 
man  turned  away,  and  slowly  disappeared. 

Antonia  remained  with  her  eyes  still  intently 
raised  to  where  her  father  had  stood,  motionless  with 
astonishment,  grief,  and  fear  ;  she  struggled,  how 
ever,  with  the  stupor  that  was  creeping  over  her  ;  her 


180  THE    TOKEJS. 

head  dropped  upon  her  knee,  and  a  deep  sigh  escap 
ed  her. 

"  I  wish  I  could  weep  ! " 

"  Weep  not,  Antonia  !  "  whispered  a  voice  close 
to  her  ear.  She  would  have  sprung  from  her  seat, 
but  an  arm  thrown  around  her  waist  retained  her  ; 
a  muffled  form  knelt  beside  her ;  the  head  was  part 
ly  revealed,  the  face  almost  touched  her  own,  and 
the  eyes  seemed  "  to  ride  upon  the  balls  of  hers/' 
The  extremity  of  the  shock  saved  her  from  insensi 
bility,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Claude  Kovani !  " 

"  'Tis  he — the  recreant,  the  traitor,  the  condemn 
ed  of  all  save  of  thee.  I  thank  and  bless  thee,  An 
tonia  !  Thou  hast  pleaded  for  me  as  an  angel  pleads, 
although  in  vain.  Nay,  struggle  not  to  escape  ;  I 
claim  but  a  few  moments — listen  to  me  !  " 

"  I  must  not — I  dare  not  !  "  then  clasping  her 
hands  she  added  ; — "  0  Claude,  what  hast  thou 
done  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  that  which  the  meanest  of  the  cre 
ation  will  do,  when  crushed  and  trod  upon.  I  have 
turned  upon  my  enemies — ay,  and  I  will  not  leave 
my  hold  until  I  have  made  a  wound  as  deep  and  as 
immedicable  in  the  heart  of  Venice  as  she  has  made 
in  mine." 

A  thought  darted  into  the  mind  of  Antonia, 
which  for  an  instant  chilled  her  with  horror  :  she 
started  up  ;  "  Speak,  Rovani !  wherefore  art  thou 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  181 

here  concealed  and  listening  ? — My  father  ?  ha  !  is 
he  not  safe  ? — darest  them  with  sacrilegious  hand — " 

"  I  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save  thy  father, 
by  a  word  of  warning  to  thee."  He  then  again  ap 
proached,  and  whispered  :  "  Beware  he  go  not  to 
the  council  this  night  !  For  thy  sake  he  is  saved  ; 
and  in  spite  of  all  that  he  has  done,  or  may  do,  in 
his  unjust  and  bloodthirsty  wrath  against  his  sister's 
son,  he  is  the  father  of  Antonia,  and  as  such  is  sa 
cred — sacred,  so  long  as  thou  betrayest  not  the  hint 
I  give  thee  ;  a  betrayal  would  doom  him  to  death, 
and  not  save  those  already  doomed.  Dost  mark  me, 
Antonia  ?  " 

"  0  horrible  !  "  she  exclaimed,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

"  And  is  it  with  horror  alone  thou  wilt  think  of 
me  ?  "  he  retorted  mournfully. 

"Not  so,"  replied  Antonia,  more  in  fear  than  in 
truth, — "  thou  savest  my  father." 

"  Tis  well ;  my  time  is  more  than  out ;  farewell, 
my  beautiful  cousin.  I  marvel  riot  at  thy  crowd  of 
suitors  ;  but  wed  not  with  the  Doge's  son,  and  some 
times  think  of  one,  who,  under  happier  auspices, 
would  have  loved  and  cherished  thee  in  his  heart's 
core  ;  farewell ! "  He  snatched  her  in  his  arms, 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  and  as  suddenly  releasing 
her,  turned,  and  plunging  into  the  thickly-planted 
shrubbery,  disappeared. 

What  a  change  had  a  single  hour  wrought  in  the 


182  THE    TOKEN. 

feelings  and  fate  of  Antonia  !  What  would  she  not 
have  given  to  recall  the  careless  happiness  with 
which,  at  the  commencement  of  this  luckless  hour? 
she  had  sat  at  the  feet  of  her  father,  caressing  him, 
smiling  on  the  lovely  and  animated  scene  around 
her,  or  striking  the  chords  of  her  lute,  in  the  mere 
fulness  of  unreproved  enjoyment  !  And  now  the 
shades  of  night,  that  were  chasing  the  lovely,  though 
short-lived  twilight,  and  enveloping  in  darkness  all 
that  was  of  late  so  bright  and  beautiful,  fell  not 
more  suddenly,  or  more  heavily,  than  the  gloom  of 
despondency,  self-reproach,  and  evil  forebodings,  on 
the  young  heart  of  Antonia. 

"  Signora  !  where  is  the  signora  ?  "  Antonia 
started,  for  even  the  well-known  voice  of  her  favor 
ite  attendant  Lucilla,  filled  her  with  apprehension. 
"  Signora  Antonia  ! "  cried  out  the  girl,  in  a  voice 
of  greater  alarm,  advancing  hastily  towards  the  bow 
er.  "  Now  the  saints  defend  us  !  Signora,  what  do 
you  here  at  this  late  hour,  when  the  dews  are  fall 
ing  ?  and  all  alone  too  ! — and  why  have  you  not  an 
swered  me  ?  I  declare  I  feel  quite  frightened." 

"  I  am  not  well,  Lucilla  ;  get  me  home,  and  in 
bed  as  soon  as  you  can."  It  was  too  dark  to  see 
her  mistress  clearly  ;  but  Lucilla  felt  that  her  hands 
were  cold,  that  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and 
that  she  was  scarcely  able  to  walk  ;  she  supported 
her  home  with  abundance  of  exclamations  and  inter 
rogations,  to  which  Antonia  made  no  reply.  On 


CLAUDE  ROVANI.  183 

reaching  her  chamber,  Lucilla  perceived  that  her 
young  mistress  had  all  the  appearance  of  sudden  ill 
ness  ;  and  having  assisted  her  to  undress,  and  to 
place  her  in  bed,  left  her  as  she  desired,  to  request 
the  attendance  of  her  father. 

"  Alas  !  "  exclaimed  Antonia  when  alone  ;  "  how 
shall  I  be  able  to  support  his  presence,  to  receive  his 
tenderness  and  pity,  with  the  image  of  the  forbidden 
Eovani  at  my  heart,  and  his  kiss  upon  my  lip  !  I 
have  a  secret  to  hide,  a  part  to  play,  an  object  to  at 
tain  !  Into  what  a  mesh  of  difficulties  am  I  already 
entangled  ! " 

Her  father  came  hastily,  reproaching  himself  as 
the  cause  of  her  illness.  The  domestic  physician 
was  called,  and  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  some 
shock  on  the  nerves  had  been  received,  and  that  the 
utmost  quiet,  rest,  and  composure  were  requisite. 
In  pursuance  cf  the  first  scheme  of  deception  she  had 
ever  practised,  Antonia  pretended  to  be  more  unwell 
than  she  really  was. 

"It  is  ten  o'clock,"  whispered  her  father;  "I 
must  leave  you  for  an  hour  or  two  to  attend  the 
council."  Without  opening  her  eyes,  she  folded  her 
father's  hand  in  hers.  "  Not  to-night,  dearest  father, 
not  to-night !  " 

"  The  council,  my  child,  will  soon  break  up  ; 
there  will  be  nothing  very  important  ;  the  leading 
measures  were  decided  on  last  night." 

"  You  can  therefore  the  more  easily  stay  with 


1 84  THE    TOKEN. 

me  :  do  not  leave  me  !  "  She  clung  to  him  ;  and 
the  tremulous  movement  of  her  frame  recommenced, 
appearing  to  threaten  convulsion. 

"Can  it  be,"  thought  her  father,  "that  the 
mere  conversation  with  me  on  the  subject  of  her 
degenerate  kinsman  produces  this  lamentable  effect, 
or  is  there  some  other  cause  ? "  Vague  suspicions 
darted  into  his  mind ;  but  to  question  her  was 
impossible,  and  he  remained  by  her,  despatching  a 
messenger  to  the  council  stating  the  reason  of  his 
absence. 

Having  her  father's  word,  which  she  knew  to  be 
inviolable,  that  he  would  not  attend  the  council, 
she  at  last  consented  to  take  the  composing  medicine 
the  physician  had  prescribed,  and  soon  after  sank  to 
rest,  with  her  father's  hand  fast  locked  in  hers. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  Lorezano  was  pre 
paring  to  retire  to  his  own  room,  feeling  quite  reas 
sured  by  the  tranquil  and  unbroken  sleep  of  his 
child,  when  he  was  arrested  by  a  buzz  and  murmur 
in  the  streets,  accompanied  by  the  quick,  steady  step 
of  the  armed  police  ;  presently  there  was  a  loud 
knocking  at  his  gate  ;  his  household  were  immedi 
ately  roused,  and  he  himself  proceeded  to  the  outer 
court,  where  he  was  met  by  two  of  the  council,  his 
most  intimate  friends. 

"  Sad  work,  Lorezano  !  three  of  our  number " 
(repeating  the  names)  "  are  wounded  to  death,  at 
the  breaking  up  of  the  council,  within  the  palace 


CLAUDE   EOVANI.  185 

gates  ; — hark  !  the  tocsin  !  the  whole  city  is  getting 
on  foot ;  the  palace  and  its  precincts  are  under  the 
strictest  search,  and  we  have  run  here  to  beg  of  you 
to  show  yourself  and  assist,  for  your  name  has  been 
mentioned  suspiciously, — your  absence  from  the 
council  (a  circumstance  so  rare)  on  this  eventful 
night,  has  been  remarked." 

"  1  will  go  with  you  instantly,"  exclaimed  the 
old  senator  ;  "  bring  me  my  sword,  and  God  grant 
me  occasion  and  power  to  use  it,  although  it  be 
against  my  own  degenerate  flesh  and  blood  !  But 
come  first  with  me,  signers, — you  shall  see  my  sick 
child  whom  I  could  not  leave."  They  accompanied 
him  to  the  chamber  of  Antonia,  by  whom,  with 
Lucilla,  sat  the  physician,  fearful  of  her  being 
awaked  by  this  sudden  clamor  ;  but,  although  with 
cheeks  and  lips  as  white  as  the  linen  that  enshrouded 
her,  and  breathing  short  and  unequally,  she  still 
slept.  The  senators,  with  a  view  to  the  defence  of 
their  friend,  asked  a  few  questions  of  the  physician 
and  were  quite  satisfied.  Lorezano  gently  kissed 
his  daughter's  brow,  and  departed  with  them. 

Lucilla,  who  had  sat  up  during  the  night,  now 
at  the  physician's  desire,  resigned  her  post  to  an 
other.  On  her  way  to  her  chamber  she  was  accost 
ed  by  her  aspirante  Pietro,  a  confidential  sort  of  clerk 
and  treasurer,  clever,  plausible,  and  artful. 

The  fellow  proceeded  by  a  series  of  shrewdly  put 
questions  to  elicit  from  his  weak  and  unsupecting 
9* 


186  THE    TOKEN. 

auditor,  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  an  interview 
had  recently  taken  place  between  Antonia  and 
Kovani ;  and  persuaded  her,  for  the  sake,  as  he 
alleged,  of  guarding  her  young  mistress  from  the 
consequences  of  so  dangerous  a  connection,  to  con 
cur  with  him  in  a  system  of  espionage,  and  to  com 
municate  to  him,  from  time  to  time,  any  circumstan 
ces  bearing  on  the  subject,  which  might  come  under 
her  notice. 

Lorezano  had  enemies  in  the  council  as  well  as 
friends ;  but  on  this  occasion  those  enemies  found 
that  it  was  in  vain  attempting  to  cast  a  slur  upon 
his  loyalty.  His  open,  manly  bearing,  his  zealous 
intrepidity,  his  perfect  contempt  of  aught  approach 
ing  to  suspicion  as  applied  to  himself,  joined  to  his 
gray  hairs  and  unblemished  character,  silenced  the 
slanderous  whispers  of  his  enemies ;  and  the  old 
councillor  at  once  resumed  his  influence. 

The  next  day  a  placard  was  found  posted  in  the 
Place  of  St.  Mark,  signed  by  Claude  Kovani,  setting 
forth  that  the  atonement  of  blood  was  fulfilled,  that 
he  and  his  confederates  should  withdraw  from  the 
states  of  Venice  ;  but  that,  as  they  had  devoted 
their  lives  to  her  punishment,  they  should  hold  them 
selves  in  readiness  to  enter  into  the  service  of  any 
foreign  power  at  war  with  her ;  he  commented  with 
sarcastic  severity  on  her  omniscient  and  omnipotent 
government,  that  could  not,  within  its  own  capital, 
protect  the  lives  and  property  of  its  noblest  citizens ; 


CLAUDE   KOVANI.  187 

and  he  thanked  that  government,  with  bitter  irony, 
for  the  treasure  that  had  replaced  his  alienated 
property. 

This  manifesto  inflamed  the  Venetians  beyond 
endurance.  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  population 
had  quitted  for  a  time  their  usual  avocations  to  join 
in  one  common  pursuit  of  these  insulting  rebels  ; 
and  not  only  the  capital,  but  the  whole  country 
became  imbued  with  the  same  spirit.  Every  road 
had  its  village  patrol ;  the  outposts  were  increased 
in  number  and  doubly  guarded  ;  no  dwelling  was 
exempted  from  instant  and  repeated  search  ;  and  no 
persons,  whatever  their  rank  or  station,  were  safe 
from  personal  examination  or  interrogatory  at  any 
time. 

It  was  arranged,  that  to  avoid  as  much  as  possi 
ble  all  this  hubbub  and  confusion,  produced  by  so 
near  and  exciting  a  cause,  Antonia  should  return 
for  a  time  to  the  comparative  quiet  of  her  aunt's 
residence,  although  that,  like  all  others,  was  under 
surveillance.  Accordingly  in  two  days  she  proceeded 
thither  by  easy  stages,  with  a  strong  escort,  and  ac 
companied  by  the  physician  and  Lucilla. 

Pietro,  to  his  disappointment,  remained  with 
his  master  in  the  city.  Any  correspondence  by  let 
ter  with  Lucilla,  on  the  important  subject  of  their 
conferences,  was  utterly  impossible  ;  it  was  therefore 
agreed,  that  should  any  thing  occur  to  induce  a 
slight  suspicion  of  her  mistress's  continued  commur 


188  THE    TOKEN. 

nication  with  Rovani,  Lucilla  should  send,  as  a  to 
ken,  by  the  daily  messenger,  a  lock  of  her  hair,  with 
her  best  love,  to  Pietro  ;  but,  if  any  thing  very  de 
cided  took  place,  so  as  to  leave  little  or  no  doubt  on 
the  mind  of  Lucilla  that  such  a  communication 
actually  existed,  she  was  to  send  him  back  a  small 
gold  and  enamelled  ring,  which  he  had  lately  given 
her. 

In  consequence  of  a  private  intimation  from 
Lorezano,  the  signora  Bianca  received  her  niece  with 
her  usual  maternal  kindness,  but  forbore  in  any  way 
to  allude  to  the  cause  of  her  recent  indisposition,  and 
her  unexpected  return.  In  neither  of  these  events 
did  the  signora  perceive  any  mystery ;  naturally 
concluding  that  the  guilt,  danger,  and  disgrace,  in 
which  their  once  much-loved  relative  had  so  unhap 
pily  become  involved,  sufficiently  accounted  for  the 
painful  impression  made  on  a  heart  so  affectionate, 
and  so  unused  to  suffering  as  that  of  her  niece. 

The  image  of  Rovani  in  the  mean  time  continued 
to  haunt  Antonia  :  for  the  chances  of  his  using  this 
abode  as  a  means  of  concealment  or  evasion,  were 
not  improbable.  It  was  an  old  building,  reared  in 
dangerous  times,  and  had  more  than  its  due  share  of 
secret  doors,  and  passages,  and  subterraneous  com 
munications,  which  she  well  remembered  Rovani,  as 
a  boy,  delighted  to  explore. 

Ten  days  elapsed.  One  night,  having  undressed, 
and  dismissed  Lucilla,  who  slept  in  the  adjoining 


CLAUDE   KOVANI.  189 

room,  Antonia  applied  herself  to  read.  It  was  a 
dark  and  gloomy  night ;  every  door,  and  the  massive 
casements  of  her  windows  were  closed ;  a  slight 
noise  attracted  her  attention  ;  she  looked  in  the 
direction  from  whence  it  proceeded  ;  the  arras  was 
moving,  and  her  heart  sank  within  her  as  she  observed 
that  it  was  exactly  the  part  which  covered  a  sliding 
panel.  She  remained  rooted  to  her  seat,  with  her 
eyes  strained  eagerly  forward,  and  her  lips  apart, 
when  a  loose  corner  of  the  arras  was  suddenly  lifted 
up,  and  Eovani  stood  before  her. 

He  was  thinner  and  paler  than  when  they  had 
last  met,  and  the  stamp  of  thought  and  suffering  was 
on  his  brow.  "  Antonia  ! "  he  exclaimed  with  a 
mixture  of  doubt  and  hope.  She  rose,  and  advanced 
towards  him  ;  he  flew  to  meet  her :  "  Will  you 
assist  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  repay,  as  far  as  I  am  able,  the  debt  I 
owe  you  for  my  father's  life, — tell  me  how."  He 
raised  her  hands  to  his  lips,  and  led  her  to  one  of 
the  casements  :  "  You  probably  understand  this 
better  than  I, — open  it  very  gently."  While  she 
did  so,  he  took  from  his  bosom  a  slight  but  strong 
cord,  fastening  an  end  of  it  to  one  of  two  pillars 
in  the  apartment.  Kovani  then  extinguished  her 
lamp,  and  leaned  from  the  window,  under  which 
glided  a  branch  of  a  small  river  that  flows  into 
the  gulf  of  Venice.  "What  do  you  expect  ?"  she 
whispered. 


190  THE    TOKEN. 

"  A  boat,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  hear  it."  And  almost 
as  soon  as  he  spoke,  a  soft  and  peculiar  whistle  was 
heard,  which  he  answered.  He  then  threw  the  other 
end  of  the  rope  out,  and  turning  to  her  said,  "  When 
you  hear  my  whistle  from  below,  undo  or  cut  the 
end  which  I  have  fastened  round  the  pillar,  and 
throw  it  out.  God  bless  you,  Antonia  !  God  bless 
you  !  we  shall  perhaps  never  meet  again  ! "  He 
drew  her  towards  him,  and  tenderly  embraced  her  ; 
he  felt  the  warm  tears  upon  her  cheeks,  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  her  hand,  and  above  all,  he  felt  the 
slight  and  timid  return  of  his  kiss.  At  that  instant 
a  thought  glanced  over  his  mind  j  a  selfish  and 
unworthy  thought, — it  existed  but  for  a  moment ; 
"  Did  she  love  him  ? — might  she  be  prevailed  upon 
to  share  his  exile  ?  But  no — to  resign  her  country 
was  possible,  but  not  her  father — nor  would  Rovani 
desire  it."  Strange  inconsistency  of  the  human 
mind  ! — he,  who,  without  remorse,  had  glutted  his 
revenge,  shrunk  from  even  the  thought  of  crime 
unprompted  by  that  passion  :  where  his  nature  was 
unperverted,  it  shone  forth  in  all  its  original  bright 
ness.  With  one  desperate  struggle  he  relinquished 
her,  and  sprang  from  the  window.  Antonia's  heart 
beat  to  every  vibration  of  the  cord  ;  at  length  it 
was  still,  and  the  expected  whistle  announced  his 
safety.  She  drew  the  loop  of  the  rope  and  threw  it 
out. 

The  noise  of  the  opening  of   the  window  had 


CLAUDE   KOVANI.  191 

awaked  the  watchful  Lucilla  ;  she  sat  up  in  her  bed 
and  listened  ;  at  last  she  found  courage  to  rise  and 
approach  the  door  of  her  mistress's  apartment ;  she 
thought  she  heard  whispering  ;  again  she  hesitated, 
and  then,  very  gentle  opening  the  door,  found  there 
was  no  light,  and  the  rush  of  cool  air  convinced  her 
that  a  window  was  unclosed.  She  crept  along  towards 
it,  and  just  reached  it  when  Antonia,  having  undone 
the  end  of  the  cord  and  thrown  it  out,  was  leaning 
anxiously  from  the  window ;  then  drawing  herself 
back,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice  :  "  Thank  God, 
he  is  safe  ! "  She  proceeded  to  close  the  window, 
and  Lucilla  took  that  opportunity  of  effecting  her 
return  unperceived  to  her  own  room. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  usual  messenger  in  the 
city  on  the  following  day  at  noon,  Pietro  received  a 
packet.  He  flew  with  the  prize  to  his  own  sleeping- 
room,  and  on  tearing  it  open,  found  the  ring.  In 
less  than  half  an  hour,  the  spy  was  closeted  with 
Yincenzo,  one  of  the  council  the  most  inimical  to 
Lorezano. 

At  five  o'clock  the  same  afternoon,  the  signora 
Bianca  and  her  niece,  having  dressed  for  the  even 
ing,  after  their  siesta,  had  met  as  usual  at  their 
accustomed  seat  on  the  terrace. 

Antonia  was  aroused  from  a  reverie  by  an  ex 
clamation  from  her  aunt ;  and  on  looking  up,  beheld 
advancing  along  the  road,  direct  to  the  villa,  a 
carriage  and  a  horse-litter,  accompanied  by  a 


192  THE    TOKEN. 

numerous  troop  of  armed  men.  The  signora  gave 
immediate  orders  for  their  reception  without  any 
symptom  of  fear  or  suspicion,  but  the  heart  of 
Antonia  throbbed  and  a  mortal  dread  crept  over  her ; 
even  her  aunt  appeared  discomposed  on  observing 
two  government-officers  and  a  notary  descend  from 
the  carriage,  who  were  conducted,  with  the  military 
commander  and  several  of  the  escort,  into  the  pre 
sence  of  the  two  ladies  ;  a  few  of  the  higher  class  of 
the  attendants  of  the  family  accompanied  them,  and 
among  whom  was  Lucilla. 

After  bowing  profoundly,  one  of  the  civil  officers 
addressed  the  lady  of  the  house  :  "  It  is  with  the 
utmost  regret,  signora,  that  we  fulfil  the  painful  duty 
imposed  on  us,  of  which  this  (presenting  an  official 
document)  will  apprise  you/'  The  signora  received 
the  paper,  but  her  agitation  was  too  great  to  allow 
her  to  peruse  it,  and  she  returned  it.  "  Head  it,  sir, 
I  beg — I  cannot."  The  commissioner  proceeded  to 
read,  with  a  clear  and  loud  voice,  the  order  which 
authorized  him  and  his  coadjutors  to  search  the 
premises  of  the  signora  Bianca  ;  to  examine  herself 
and  her  household  ;  to  arrest,  without  examination, 
the  signora  Antonia,  and  to  convey  her  a  prisoner 
to  Venice. 

The  signora  Bianca  looked  at  Antouia,  and  was 
surprised  to  observe  that  there  was  neither  astonish 
ment  nor  indignation  on  her  countenance  ;  she  stood 
with  downcast  eyes,  calm  and  pale.  "  This  is  some 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  193 

base  intrigue  ! "  exclaimed  the  signora,  approaching 
her,  "  and  the  truth  will  soon  be  evident. "  Her 
niece  embraced  her  affectionately,  but  without  a 
word  ;  and  talking  her  long  veil  from  the  seat  she 
had  just  quitted,  she  enveloped  herself  in  it,  and 
bowing  her  head,  said,  "  I  am  ready." 

"  My  dear,  dear  mistress  !  "  sobbed  out  Lucilla, 
"  where  are  they  going  to  take  you  ?  " 

"  Farewell,  Lucilla  !  farewell  all  of  you  !  "  said 
Antonia,  as  she  was  placed  in  the  litter,  which  was 
carefully  shut,  and  the  guards  drew  up  round  it. 

The  commissioners  next  proceeded  to  call  over 
the  names  of  the  household  from  a  list  they  held ; 
the  terrified  Lucilla  was  then  selected  from  the  rest, 
and  removed  into  another  apartment.  "  We  desire 
that  you  will  detail  to  us  exactly  the  event  that  has 
taken  place  here  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
and  that  has  given  you  a  suspicion  of  the  signora 
Antonia's  being  in  correspondence  with  her  cousin, 
the  traitor,  Claude  Rovani  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  no  event/'  replied  the  trembling 
Lucilla,  "  I  have  no  suspicion." 

"  Apply  the  thumb-screws  !  " 

"  0  mercy  !  I  will  confess  all,"  screamed  the 
girl,  going  down  on  her  knees  ;  and  accordingly  she 
detailed  exactly  what  she  had  heard  and  seen  the 
preceding  night.  Her  deposition  was  taken  in 
writing,  and  she  was  desired  to  lead  the  way  to  the 
apartment  of  her  mistress.  Here,  on  examination 


194  THE    TOKEN. 

behind  the  arras,  was  found  the  sliding  panel,  which 
Kovani  had  incautiously  left  open.  A  party  was 
ordered  to  explore  this  secret  entry  ;  and  another, 
consisting  of  a  numerous  detachment  of  picked  men 
and  horses,  was  ordered  to  follow  the  course  of  the 
river,  and  to  pursue  the  inquiry  actively  and  care 
fully  in  its  direction.  The  guard  over  the  residence 
was  strongly  reinforced,  and  stricter  regulations 
adopted  as  to  the  household,  who  in  fact  became 
prisoners.  The  commissioners  finally  returned  to 
the  terrace  to  take  formal  leave  of  the  signora 
Bianca,  who,  from  the  moment  of  her  niece's  depar 
ture,  had  remained  motionless  in  her  chair,  with  her 
face  buried  in  her  hands. 

On  the  arrival  of  Lorezano  at  the  Doge's  council 
that  night,  he  was  informed  that  the  conspirators 
had  been  again  tracked,  and  that  there  was  a  prison 
er  for  examination,  and  perhaps  for  condemnation, 
before  the  Council  of  Ten. 

The  forms  of  the  government  of  Venice  frequent 
ly  varied  ;  at  this  time  the  Council  of  Ten  was  in 
dependent  of  the  Doge,  who  was  only  applied  to  for 
a  casting  vote,  when  the  members  were  equally 
divided  on  a  question. 

This  terrific  tribunal  assembled  in  their  secret 
hall  at  midnight ;  they  were  seated  in  a  semicircle  ; 
a  single  lamp  was  suspended  immediately  in  front, 
darkened  on  the  side  towards  the  councillors,  and 
throwing  its  full  light  on  the  spot  were  the  prisoner 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  195 

would  be  placed.     On  the  right  there  was  a  small 
table   also,  with  a  partially  shaded  lamp,  where  sat 
two   scriveners  with  their  writing  materials.     At  a 
greater  distance  on  the  left,  might  be  occasionally 
caught  a  glimpse  of  two  masked  motionless  figures 
seated  on  the  ground  ;  behind  them  was  the  dreaded 
wheel,  and  strange  nameless  instruments  were  scat 
tered  round.     The  size,  situation,  and  communica 
tions  of  this  hall  would  have  appeared  to  a  stranger 
all  undefined  in  "darkness  visible  ;"  a  column  whose 
height  was  lost  in  obscurity,  or  the  wave  of  a  dark 
curtain  would  catch  his  eye  by  the  uncertain  flicker 
ing  of  the  light,  and  now  and  then  he  might  see,  or 
imagine  he  saw,  a  shrouded  form  moving  noiselessly 
along  in  the  distance. 

A  veiled  female  was  conducted  in  and  placed  in 
front  of  her  judges  ;  "A  woman  !  "  whispered  the 
president.  "  Yes,  signor,  a  woman,"  repeated  Yin- 
cenzo  ;  "  remove  her  veil ! "  It  was  removed,  and 
the  young  daughter  of  the  aged  Lorezano  stood 
before  them. 

There  was  a  movement  among  the  councillors, 
followed  by  a  deep  groan.  Antonia,  for  a  moment, 
forgot  her  fears,  and  thought  only  of  her  father  ; 
she  raised  her  manacled  hand  to  her  eyes,  and  strove 
to  pierce  the  gloom ;  she  struggled  to  rush  forward, 
but  was  prevented  by  a  hitherto  invisible  frame  of 
iron  net-work.  "  My  father  !  "  she  exclaimed,  be 
seechingly.  For  a  moment  there  was  the  stillness 


196  THE    TOKEN. 

of  death,  and  then  the  president  gave  the  order  to 
proceed  with  the  examination. 

Antonia  collected  herself ;  "  Signers/'  she  said, 
"  there  will  be  no  examination  requisite  to  elicit  the 
truth.  Give  me  leave,  and  I  will  detail  to  you 
exactly  all  that  has  occurred."  She  was  ordered  to 
proceed. 

Antonia  related,  with  clearness,  brevity,  and 
precision,  the  scenes  that  had  taken  place  in  the 
garden  at  Venice,  and  in  her  chamber  at  the  resi 
dence  of  her  aunt.  No  doubt  remained  on  the 
mind  of  her  judges  that  she  had  told  the  whole  truth, 
corroborated  as  it  was  by  every  circumstance,  and  by 
other  evidence.  On  the  conclusion  of  her  detail, 
several  questions  were  put  to  her  by  different  mem 
bers,  and  her  answers  confirmed  their  impression  of 
her  truth. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  Antonia  had 
anxiously  watched  for  a  glimpse  of  her  father,  or  the 
sound  of  his  voice.  She  frequently  turned  an  in 
tense  gaze  to  the  spot  whence  the  groan  had  pro 
ceeded,  but  she  could  distinguish  nothing.  She  knew 
that  he  was  in  her  presence,  she  felt  that  he  suffered, 
and  not  the  less  acutely,  that  the  agonized  feelings 
of  the  parent  were  sternly  repressed  by  the  duty  of 
the  councillor  and  the  resolution  of  the  patriot. 

The  prisoner  was  ordered  to  withdraw.     - 

Two  opinions  were  then  proposed  to  the  council 
as  to  her  sentence.  The  one  by  the  friends  of  Lore- 


CLAUDE    KOVANI.  197 

zano,  the  other  by  his  enemies.  The  first  party, 
among  whom  was  the  president,  proposed  that 
Antonia  should  be  imprisoned  until  Kovani  was 
seized,  or  his  death  ascertained,  and  that  then  she 
should  be  released  and  pardoned.  The  second  party 
proposed,  that,  if  within  thirty  days,  from  the  date  of 
the  following  day,  the  seizure,  surrender,  or  death  of 
Rovani  were  not  known  to  have  taken  place,  Antonia 
Lorezano,  the  abettor  of  his  flight,  should  be  put  to 
death,  and  that  public  notices  to  this  effect  should 
be  circulated,  as  well  through  the  neighboring  states 
as  through  those  of  Venice  ;  but  that  on  any  one  of 
these  events  being  proved  to  the  council  within  the 
allotted  period,  the  culprit  should  be  released  and 
pardoned. 

The  votes  were  taken,  and  the  last  proposition 
prevailed  ;  there  were  six  in  its  favor,  and  four,  in 
cluding  the  president  and  Lorezano,  against  it. 

The  prisoner  was  recalled,  and  the  sentence  was 
solemnly  pronounced  :  "  That  if  within  thirty  days 
the  traitor,  Claude  Rovani,  were  not  in  the  hands  of 
the  government,  either  by  seizure  or  surrender,  or 
that  if  within  that  time  his  death  were  not  ascertain 
ed  beyond  a  doubt,  the  culprit,  who  had  treasonably 
assisted  in  his  escape,  should  be  put  to  death,  and 
that  her  death  should  take  place  at  twelve  o'clock 
on  the  night  of  the  thirtieth  day  ;  but,  that  if  the 
seizure,  surrender,  or  demise  of  Rovani,  were  known 
to  have  occurred  within  that  time,  Antonia  Lorezano 
should  be  released  and  pardoned." 


198  THE    TOKEN. 

For  an  instant  a  deep  glow  suffused  the  droop 
ing  brow  of  the  prisoner  ;  she  raised  her  head,  and 
cast  her  eyes  keenly  round,  as  though  striving  to 
penetrate  the  darkness  from  whence  issued  this 
mandate  of  life  and  death ;  and  then  the  bright 
color  as  quickly  faded  into  deadly  paleness.  She 
bowed  meekly  to  her  invisible  judges,  and  a  timid, 
imploring  glance  was  fixed  upon  the  spot  where  she 
believed  her  father  sat.  She  joined  her  manacled 
hands,  and  slowly  sank  upon  her  knees — but  all 
remained  shrouded  and  still  as  the  grave.  Her 
guards  raised  her  ;  she  staggered  and  fell  into  their 
arms  insensible,  and  her  light  motionless  form  was 
borne  off  between  the  two  armed  men,  till  all  disap 
peared  in  the  distant  gloom. 

Lorezano  returned  home,  but  his  most  intimate 
friends  were  refused  admittance.  He  secluded  him 
self  altogether  in  the  solitude  of  his  chamber  ;  he 
was  sometimes  found  by  his  attendants  in  prayer, 
but  not  a  complaint,  a  tear,  nor  even  a  sigh  was 
observed  to  escape  him.  The  house  was  closed  and 
darkened,  as  though  death  were  in  it ;  not  a  sound 
was  heard  above  a  whisper,  and  the  servants  glided 
about  noiselessly  in  the  performance  of  their  several 
duties.  He  never  made,  nor  caused  to  be  made,  the 
slightest  inquiry  concerning  his  daughter  or  Bovani. 
The  signora  Bianca  begged  to  be  permitted  to  pass 
these  terrible  thirty  days  with  him,  but  he  refused. 
Every  evening  he  attended  the  Doge's  council,  and 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  199 

there,  as  nothing  had  been  heard  of  Rovani,  nothing 
was  said  concerning  him.  To  the  public  business 
going  forward  the  old  man  gave  his  attention,  but 
the  moment  the  council  broke  up,  he  abruptly  dis 
appeared,  turning  alike  from  friends  and  foes.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  the  austerity  of  his  grief,  none,  save  his 
bitterest  enemies,  could  view  him  unmoved.  From 
night  to  night  the  change  in  his  appearance  was 
most  palpable  and  melancholy  ;  his  eyes  became  dim 
and  hollow,  his  features  sharp,  and  his  complexion 
livid  ;  the  firmness  of  his  step  was  changed  to  weak 
ness  and  tottering,  and  the  stateliness  of  his  de 
meanor  gave  way,  as  under  a  sudden  load  of  care 
and  infirmity. 

The  signora,  notwithstanding  Lorezano's  refusal 
to  see  her,  came  from  the  country,  and,  unknown  to 
him,  established  herself  in  his  house  ;  using  all  her 
interest,  through  every  channel,  in  favor  of  the  con 
demned  Antonia,  and  offering  all  that  she  was  worth 
for  the  apprehension  of  Rovani.  She  could  not,  how 
ever,  succeed  in  obtaining  permission  to  see,  or  in 
any  way  to  correspond  with  her  niece. 

Antonia  herself  was  perfectly  resigned  to  her  im 
pending  fate  ;  she  allowed  not  a  hope  to  steal  upon 
her  thoughts,  and  meekly  and  firmly  prepared  for 
death.  She  suffered  most  for  those  who,  she  well 
knew,  were  suffering  for  her  ;  not  all  her  fortitude 
could  suppress  the  agony  with  which  the  idea  of  her 
father  presented  itself ;  that  of  her  affectionate  aunt, 


200  THE    TOKEN. 

and  of  him — the  guilty  yet  beloved  one — whose  bit 
ter  remorse  she  anticipated,  and  whose  vengeance, 
again  to  be  roused  to  madness,  she  dreaded  and  de 
plored. 

It  was  on  the  twentieth  day  that  two  pilgrims 
were  observed  alone  on  the  sea-shore  in  deep  con 
sultation. 

"  And  recollect  we  are  but  two/'  observed  one, 
apparently  in  expostulation  ;  "  Baptiste  and  Jerome 
have  escaped  beyond  recall." 

"  Better  two,"  replied  the  dreaded  Rovani,  "  on 
such  a  service  as  this,  than  four." 

"  Then,"  pursued  his  companion,  "  we  shall  tire 
out  the  patience  of  our  friends  in  Venice  ;  they  will 
not  approve  of  our  return,  especially  for  no  other  ob 
ject  than  to  save  the  daughter  of  that  haughty  noble, 
Garcia  Lorezano." 

"We  will  not  apply  to  them  ;  there  is  no  need. 
If  I  find  that  our  object  is  utterly  unattainable,  ryou 
can  take  shelter  with  our  friends,  and  I " 

"  And  you,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  There  is  but  one  way  for  me  to  act." 

There  was  a  pause  :  "  My  dear  master,  let  us 
speak  no  more  about  it — I  have  vowed  myself  to  your 
service  ;  we  have  together  shared  dangers  and  brav 
ed  death  ;  arid  at  this  last  cast,  my  lord,  I  will  not 
fail  you."  They  shook  hands,  and  a  short  conference 
succeeded  this  parley. 

On  the  evening  of  the  twenty-eighth  day,  Lore- 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  201 

zano  sent  his  excuse  for  not  attending  the  council ; 
his  proud  spirit  "bent  at  last  to  the  pressure  of  grief 
and  illness.  He  took  to  his  bed,  and  his  physician 
and  sister-in-law  were,  for  the  first  time,  admitted. 
On  the  evening  of  the  twenty-ninth,  the  physician 
obtained  leave  to  appear  before  the  council.  He 
stated  that  his  venerable  patient  was  near  his  end, 
that  there  was  little  hope  of  his  surviving  beyond  the 
next  four-and-twenty-hours,  that  the  old  man  prayed, 
as  his  last  and  only  request,  that  he  might  be  per 
mitted  to  see  his  child  before  his  death — before  the 
death  of  both.  Some  demur  was  made  to  granting 
this  prayer,  unless  Lorezano  could  go  himself  to  the 
prison  of  his  daughter  ;  but  this  was  impossible,  and 
after  a  little  further  consultation,  it  was  permitted 
that  she  should  pass  the  hour  between  eleven  and 
twelve  on  the  ensuing  night  with  her  father — her  last 
hour — and  that  immediately  after  the  interview  she 
should  be  led  to  execution.  I  **  ; 

On  the  morning  of  the  following  day,  the  fatal 
thirtieth,  two  pilgrims  arrived  at  the  monastery  ad 
joining  the  state-prison.  One  of  them  appeared 
travel-worn  and  ill,  and  they  were  admitted,  as  they 
desired,  for  a  few  hours'  rest  and  refection.  The  one 
who  was  not  ill,  partook  only  of  roots  and  water,  and, 
according  to  his  vow,  kept  his  face  concealed.  He 
appeared  exceedingly  devout,  was  very  gentle  in  his 
manners,  and  full  of  information  as  to  the  countries 
he  had  visited  ;  so  much  so,  that,  during  the  supe- 
10 


202  THE    TOKEN. 

rior's  after-dinner  leisure,  he  was  sent  for  to  narrate 
some  of  the  interesting  tales  of  his  wanderings.  So 
well  did  he  win  his  way  with  the  good  priest,  that 
the  conversation  was  only  broken  off  at  vespers,  to 
be  renewed  immediately  afterwards. 

At  vespers  a  prayer  was  put  up  for  a  guilty  soul 
that  was  to  depart  that  night. 

On  the  renewal  of  their  conversation,  the  pilgrim 
ventured  to  inquire  for  whom  the  prayer  had  been 
said. 

The  abbot  sighed,  and  having  cautiously  looked 
round,  replied  in  a  whisper  :  "  For  Antonia  Lore- 
zano,  the  young  heiress  of  old  Garcia  Lorezano,  his 
only  child — she  dies,  poor  thing  !  for  having  assisted 
in  the  escape  of  that  terrible  cousin  of  hers,  who  has 
kept  us  all  in  hot  water  these  three  months  past, — 
Claude  Rovani." 

"  Antonia  Lorezano  ! "  repeated  the  pilgrim 
thoughtfully  ;  "I  have  seen  that  name  in  a  placard 
lately." 

"  Very  likely,  for  they  have  given  notice  that  un 
less  her  cousin  surrender  himself  by  this  day,  she 
should  suffer  death — a  mere  mockery.  Was  it  to  be 
supposed  that  this  murderous  traitor,  or,"  (and  the 
holy  father  crossed  himself,)  "our  Great  Enemy  in 
his  shape — (for  many  believe  he  is  Satan  himself — 
the  saints  protect  us  !)  would  come  to  save  her  in 
body  or  in  soul  ?  " 

"Alas,  no  !  "  sighed  the  pilgrim,  dropping  a  bead, 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  203 

and  devoutly  muttering  a  prayer.  "  And  her  father  ?  " 
he  resumed ,  in  a  tone  of  commiseration. 

"  He  is  heart-broken, — he  is  dying  ;  so  near  in 
deed  is  he  to  death,  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  he 
or  his  daughter  will  depart  first."  There  was  a  pause. 

"  Is  this  quite  certain  ?  "  inquired  the  pilgrim. 

"  Quite  certain,"  continued  the  garrulous  old  ab 
bot  :  "  by  the  token  that  fathers  Francis  and  Ber- 
nardine  are  desired  to  be  at  the  Palazzo  Lorezani 
this  night  to  receive  the  condemned  one  there,  not 
from  her  prison  ;  and  from  thence  the  gondola  takes 
her  direct  to  the  place  of  execution, — for  the  council 
has  consented  that  she  shall  pass  her  last  hour  with 
her  dying  father." 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  "  exclaimed  the  pilgrim,  "  what 
a  world  of  woe  is  this  !  "  By  some  further  questions, 
put  with  much  art  and  caution,  he  became  master  of 
the  whole  arrangement,  and  learned  that,  at  a  quar 
ter  before  eleven,  the  prisoner  was  to  be  conveyed  to 
her  father's  residence  in  a  guarded  litter,  and,  at  a 
quarter  before  twelve,  the  monks  were  to  be  ready 
in  their  gondola  at  a  side-door,  where  the  canal  ran 
close  to  the  palazzo,  thence  sweeping  round  its  gar 
dens  ;  that  they  were  there  to  receive  her,  the  guards 
accompanying  them  along  the  bank. 

"  She  has  probably,"  observed  the  pilgrim,  "pow 
erful  friends  at  work  for  her  deliverance  ;  she  might 
easily  step  into  a  wrong  gondola,"  he  hinted  signifi 
cantly. 


204  THE   TOKEN. 

"  That  puts  me  in  mind — "  exclaimed  the  abbot, 
starting  up  without  finishing  his  sentence,  and  sound 
ing  his  call ;  a  lay- monk  appeared.  "  Ask  father 
Francis  whether  he  has  yet  received  the  pass-word." 
In  a  few  minutes  a  small  sealed  paper  was  brought 
to  the  abbot ;  he  broke  the  seal  and  held  the  paper 
up  to  the  light,  but  the  pilgrim's  eyes  were  quicker 
and  more  far-sighted  than  the  old  man's. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  the  pilgrims,  although 
pressed  to  stay  the  night,  took  their  leave,  promising 
however,  at  the  solicitation  of  the  abbot,  soon  to  re 
new  their  visit.  The  night  closed  in,  drizzly  and 
dark.  The  church-bells  had  tolled  the  half-hour 
after  ten.  Lorezano,  propped  by  cushions,  reclined 
on  his  bed — reclined,  not  reposed  ;  his  restlessness 
was  fearful,  and  an  unnatural  brilliancy  was  in  his 
eye  ;  with  ominous  strength  he  grasped  the  hands  of 
those  near  him,  then  dashed  them  franticly  away, 
his  couch  shaking  beneath  the  violence  of  his  agita 
tion. 

At  length  the  outer  portals  were  heard  to  grate 
slowly  back,  and  the  words  "  She  is  coming  ! "  were 
whispered  from  lip  to  lip,  in  every  varied  tone  of  in 
tense  anxiety.  By  the  light  of  a  few  flambeaux, 
whose  uncertain  glare  struggled  against  the  wind 
and  rain,  the  condemned  one  passed  the  outer  court 
of  her  ancestral  mansion,  arrayed  in  black  serge,  and 
covered  with  a  long  black  veil  ;  she  was  supported 
by  two  veiled  nuns,  followed,  at  a  few  paces'  dis- 


CLAUDE   ROVANI.  205 

tance,  by  the  two  officers  in  charge,  with  their  swords 
drawn  ;  a  party  armed  was  at  the  foot  of  the  grand 
staircase,  and  another,  more  numerous,  was  left  at 
the  exterior  portal  :  the  sentinels,  who  had  been 
stationed  early  in  the  evening  at  different  points  on 
the  outside  of  the  palazzo,  stood  watchful  at  their 
posts. 

Antonia  entered  the  chamber  of  her  father,  and 
the  door  was  closed  upon  her.  She  threw  back  her 
veil  and  approached  the  bed  ;  her  father  lay  with  his 
arms  extended  to  receive  her,  but  the  fortitude  of 
Antonia  for  a  moment  quailed  when  she  looked  on 
his  attenuated  form,  arid  beheld  death  in  every  fea 
ture.  Throwing  herself  on  his  breast,  she  burst  into 
a  passion  of  remorseful  grief :  "  It  is  I  that  have 
done  this ! — it  is  I  that  have  murdered  thee,  my 
father  ! — it  is  I  that  have  taken  life  from  him  who 
gave  it  to  me  ! — 0  God,  pardon  me  ! — my  father, 
canst  thou  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  My  child  !  my  blessed  child  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  with  all  his  remaining  strength  he  pressed  her  to 
his  heart :  "  it  is  thy  young  life  that  is  sacrificed  for 
having  struggled  to  preserve  the  poor  remnant  of 
mine  !  0  Antonia  !  would  that  we  could  die  here  to 
gether — thus  !  death  would  lose  its  terrors  and  its 
sting — we  should  but  sleep  for  a  moment,  and  wake 
united,  and  for  ever." 

"  Of  what  import,  then,"  resumed  Antonia,  with 
more  calmness,  "  will  a  few  hours  of  separation  prove  ? 


206  THE    TOKEN. 

— ere  the  rising  of  the  next  sun  our  happy  spirits 
will  meet,  my  dear,  my  beloved  parent  !  " 

For  a  few  moments  they  were  silent ;  that  heav 
enly  hope  visited  them  as  an  angel  of  light,  dropping 
balm  into  their  wounds  ;  but  still  the  horror  of  her 
mode  of  death  pressed  painfully  upon  him  ;  and  as 
the  days  of  her  childhood  rose  before  him,  he  repeat 
ed  wildly  :  "  What,  my  little  cherub  !  my  pretty 
prattler  !  the  soother  of  my  widowed  days  !  my  only 
treasure  !  now — in  the  first  dawn  of  her  youth  and 
loveliness — to  be  dashed  down  into  that  loathsome 
pit  !  to  linger,  perchance,  in  pain — in  thirst — in 
starvation  !  0  God  !  in  thy  mercy  remove  this  bit 
ter  cup  !  Venice,  my  country  ! — I  will  not  curse 
thee  ;  but  my  parting  soul  turns  from  thee  with  ab 
horrence  !  thou  whitened  sepulchre  ! — thou  gilded 
city  of  dust  and  ashes  !  "  The  old  man,  with  sud 
den  energy,  had  raised  himself  while  he  spoke, 
with  his  daughter  on  his  bosom  ;  she  wished  to  dis 
engage  herself,  but  could  not :  he  looked  round — 
there  was  a  dreadful  expression  on  his  livid  brow. 
"  My  stiletto  !  "  he  gasped  out ;  "  there — there  it  is  ; 
— do  you  not  see  it  ?  "  and  with  one  hand  he  clutched 
at  the  imaginary  weapon,  while  the  other  was  twist 
ing  convulsively  in  his  daughter's  long,  and  now  di 
shevelled  hair  :  "I  will  take  thee  with  me,"  he  hoarse 
ly  whispered  ;  "  the  stiletto  ! — I  have  it — no,  no,  no, 
— it  flies  from  me — my  child  !  my  child  ! "  his  hold 
relaxed,  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow,  with  his  eyes  fixed 


CLAUDE  ROVANI.  207 

and  glaring ;  there  was  one  struggle,  and  in  that 
struggle  burst  the  proud  and  stubborn,  though  noble 
heart  of  Garcia  Lorezano. 

Antonia  looked  up — she  saw  that  her  father  was 
dead  ;  she  placed  her  hands  over  his  eyes,  and  strove 
to  close  them  ;  she  could  neither  weep  nor  mourn, 
bat  her  brain  rocked  and  burned  ;  the  bed  seemed  to 
move,  and  that  ghastly  visage  to  reanimate  :  a  cold 
shuddering  crept  over  her,  and  she  sank  on  the  body 
in  a  state  of  utter  insensibility. 

The  half-hour  after  eleven  had  not  yet  tolled, 
when  the  sentinel  on  duty  at  the  back  entrance,  at 
which  the  gondola  was  expected  at  a  quarter  before 
twelve,  was  surprised  to  hear  thus  early,  the  slight 
sound  occasioned  by  its  pulling  up.  He  hailed  it,  and 
was  answered  by  the  concerted  watchword:  "Pray  for 
the  dying  !  "  He  threw  open  the  door  of  the  passage, 
and,  by  the  lamp  within,  observed  the  two  expected 
monks  close  to  him,  entirely  concealed  in  their  cowls. 

"  Pray  for  the  dying !  "  they  muttered  as  they 
passed,  and  the  soldier  grounded  his  arms,  and  knelt. 

The  monks  proceeded  along  the  passage,  and 
up  the  staircase  straight  to  the  back  entrance  of  the 
private  apartments  of  Lorezano.  The  one  who  led 
the  way  seemed  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  it. 
In  consequence  of  the  arrangements  made,  they  met 
with  no  one,  and  when  out  of  sight  of  the  sentinel, 
their  steps,  though  equally  noiseless,  were  considerably 
quickened.  They  reached  the  back-door  of  the  bed- 


208  THE    TOKEN. 

chamber,  and  paused  to  listen, — not  a  sound  was  to 
be  heard,  they  carefully  undid  the  door,  and  leaving 
it  wide  open,  entered.  There  was  a  lamp  burning 
brightly,  and  there  was  the  richly-draperied  bed,  but 
no  one  appeared.  Along  the  velvety  carpet  they 
stole  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  drawing  aside  the 
curtain,  beheld  the  dead  Lorezano,  with  his  yet  un 
closed  eyes,  and  his  daughter  lying  with  her  marble 
cheek  on  his  bosom,  to  all  appearance  as  lifeless  as 
himself ;  her  long  black  hair  and  veil  covering  them 
both  as  with  a  pall. 

The  spectacle  appeared  to  strike  the  monks  with 
grief  and  horror  ;  but  a  moment — a  single  gesture, 
were  all  that  even  these  strong  feelings  were  allowed 
to  claim.  He,  who  had  acted  as  leader,  pointed  to 
the  door  conducting  to  the  ante-room,  the  other  ap 
proaching  it,  gently  drew  a  light  bolt,  so  as  to  secure 
it  on  the  inside  ;  and  while  he  did  this,  his  compan 
ion  took  from  his  breast  a  written  paper,  to  which  he 
hastily  added  a  few  words.  They  then  raised  the  in 
sensible  Antonia — obliged,  however,  to  cut  away  such 
of  her  hair  as  remained  inextricably  twisted  round 
the  dead  man's  hand  ;  they  drew  her  veil  over  and 
over  her  head,  so  as  to  prevent,  if  possible,  her  im 
mediate  restoration  from  exposure  to  the  air  and  rain, 
and  placing  the  written  paper  on  the  breast  of  the 
corpse,  they  bore  off  their  motionless  burthen.  Not 
more  than  five  minutes  elapsed  from  their  entering  the 
bed-chamber  to  their  quitting  it. 


CLAUDE   ROVANI. 


209 


The  sentinel  perceived  their  dark  figures  issuing 
from  beneath  the  lamp  in  the  entry,  and,  mere  sol 
dier  as  he  was,  and  fully  prepared,  he  could  not  help  a 
shudder  at  perceiving  that  they  bore  a  third,  a  slight 
and  muffled  form.  They  repassed  with  the  same 
slow  step,  with  which  they  had  entered,  and  "  Pray 
for  the  dying  !  "  was  again  repeated  ;  they  went  on 
to  the  gondola  :  the  wind  and  rain  had  increased  ; 
the  sentinel  could  see  nothing,  and  he  scarcely  heard 
the  light  pushing  off  of  the  boat.  Closing  the  door 
of  the  entry,  and  wrapping  himself  up  in  his  cloak, 
he  impatiently  waited  his  relief. 

"  It  is  the  appointed  moment,"  said  one  of  the 
officers  on  guard  in  the  ante-room,  as  the  quarter  of 
an  hour  before  twelve  chimed  through  the  city  ; 
"  you,  madam,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  signora 
Bianca,  "had  best  retire." 

"  No,  no,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  will  see  her  once 

once  more  ! "  and  she  started  from  her  couch.  The 

officer,  without  reply,  approached  the  door,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  a  resistance.  At  that  moment  a 
noise  was  heard  in  the  front  court,  and  presently  a 
confused  murmur  on  the  stairs,  and  footsteps  ascend 
ing  them.  The  serjeant  of  the  guard  stationed  at  the 
portal,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  with  some 
soldiers  and  servants,  rushed  in  :  "  The  prisoner  has 
escaped  ! — the  police-gondola  has  just  arrived — the 
sentinel  will  not  allow  the  priests  to  pass,  and  de- 
10* 


210  THE    TOKEN. 

clares  the  condemned  one  was  carried  off  by  them  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  since,  and  that  he  is  only  account 
able  for  one  prisoner,  not  two.  What  is  the  mean 
ing  of  all  this,  signers  ?  " 

"  Help  us  with  this  door  !  "  exclaimed  the  offi 
cers. 

In  a  moment  the  door  was  forced  :  there  lay  the 
body  of  Lorezano,  but  his  daughter — where  !  Trem 
bling  with  agitation,  one  of  the  officers  snatched  the 
written  paper  from  the  breast  of  the  corpse  :  "  Here  ! 
this  may  explain  ! "  The  lamp  was  held  up,  and  a 
crowd  of  eager  faces  gathered  round,  astonishment 
strongly  marked  on  all,  varied  only  by  fear  and  joy. 

"  Venice  ! "  didst  thou  think  to  deceive  the  aven 
ger  of  blood  !  didst  thou  think  to  scare  the  heart  and 
fetter  the  hand  of  KOVANI  !  " 

Then  underneath  was  hastily  scrawled 

"  I  have  taken  thy  victim  from  the  arms  of  her 
dead  father — another  of  thy  broken-hearted  patriots  ! 
— Farewell !  I  commend  me  to  thy  curses,  Venice  ! 

"  CLAUDE  KOVANI/' 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  describe  the  scene  that 
ensued,  and  the  consternation  that  spread  through 
Venice  on  the  following  day.  In  spite  of  all  the 
efforts  of  their  commanders,  neither  the  police  nor 
the  military  could  be  brought  readily  and  sincerely  to 
pursue  Eovani  ;  they  had  now  decided  that  he  pos- 
jessed  supernatural  powers,  and  where  was  the  use 
of  running  after  ft  diavolo  ? 


CLAUDE  ROVANI.  211 

After  the  lapse  of  a  day  or  two,  however,  intelli 
gence  was  hrought  by  some  fishermen,  that  they  had 
met  a  sailing-boat  on  the  dawn  of  the  morning  follow 
ing  that  eventful  night :  the  boat  had  then  passed 
the  Gulf  of  Venice,  and  was  proceeding  southward 
at  great  speed,  being  favored  both  by  wind  and  tide. 
The  fishermen,  whose  vessel  had  slightly  suffered  in  the 
gale,  hailed  her  for  assistance,  but  she  kept  away  and 
would  take  no  notice  of  them  ;  on  observing  her  more 
accurately,  they  were  surprised  at  seeing  only  two 
monkson  board  ;  towards  the  stern  a  temporary  cover 
ing  of  cloaks  and  canvas  appeared  to  be  made.  No 
doubt  remained  from  this  account  that  the  boat  thus 
met  contained  the  fugitives. 

The  signora  Bianca  retired  to  her  country  resi 
dence,  and  for  a  twelvemonth  lived  in  the  deepest 
seclusion,  mourning  the  unhappy  death  of  Lorezano, 
and  the  uncertain  fate  of  his  child  ;  for  whose  mira 
culous  escape,  however,  she  returned  thanks  daily  on 
her  knees.  But  at  the  end  of  that  time  her  conduct 
suddenly  changed ;  her  cheerfulness  returned,  and 
her  doors  were  again  opened  to  society  :  she  had  re 
ceived  a  letter,  brought  by  a  mendicant  friar,  who, 
immediately  on  its  delivery,  had  disappeared  :  it  was 
from  the  condemned  Antonia,  the  outlaw's  bride, 
giving  no  clue  to  her  residence,  but  assuring  her  aunt 
of  her  safety. 

It  has  since  been  believed,  and  apparently  with 
sufficent  foundation,  that  the  fugitives  settled  in 


212  THE    TOKEN. 

France,  and  that  Claude  Rovani,  under  another  ap 
pellation,  became  one  of  the  most  distinguished  lead 
ers  of  the  armies  of  France  during  the  fifteenth  cen 
tury. 


THE    FIELD    OF    BATTLE. 

BY   W.  H.  MAXWELL. 

wander  o'er  this  bloody  field, 

To  book  our  dead,  and  then  to  bury  them  ; 
To  sort  our  nobles  from  our  common  men  ; 
For  many — 
Lie  drown'd  and  soak'd  in  mercenary  blood. 

SHAKSPBARE,  Henry  V. 

THE  last  gleam  of  fading  sunshine  fell  upon  the 
rout  of  Waterloo.  The  finest  army,  for  its  numbers, 
that  France  had  ever  embattled  in  a  field,  was  utter 
ly  defeated  ;  and  the  dynasty  of  that  proud  spirit, 
for  whom  Europe  was  too  little,  was  ended. 

Night  came :  but  it  brought  no  respite  to  the 
shattered  army  of  Napoleon  ;  and  the  moon  rose 
upon  the  "  broken  host "  to  light  the  victors  to 
their  prey.  The  British,  forgetting  their  fatigue, 
pressed  on  the  rear  of  the  flying  enemy  ;  and  the 
roads,  covered  with  the  dead  and  dying,  and  ob 
structed  by  broken  equipages  and  deserted  guns, 
became  almost  impassable  to  the  fugitives — and 
hence  the  slaughter  from  Waterloo  to  Genappe  was 


•   214  THE    TOKEN. 

frightful.  But,  wearied  with  blood  (for  the  French, 
throwing  away  their  arms  to  expedite  their  flight, 
offered  no  resistance,)  and  exhausted  with  hunger 
and  fatigue,  the  British  pursuit  relaxed,  and  at 
G-enappe  it  ceased  altogether.  The  infantry  bivou 
acked  for  the  night  around  the  farin-houses  of  Gail- 
Ion  and  Belle  Alliance,  and  the  light  cavalry  halted 
some  miles  further  on,  and  abandoned  the  work  of 
death  to  their  fresher  and  more  sanguinary  allies. 
Nothing,  indeed,  could  surpass  the  desperate  and 
unrelenting  animosity  of  the  Prussians  towards  the 
French.  Eepose  and  plunder  were  sacrificed  to 
revenge  :  the  memory  of  former  defeat,  insult,  and 
oppression,  now  produced  a  dreadful  retaliation,  and 
overpowered  every  feeling  of  humanity.  The  vce 
victis  was  pronounced,  and  thousands,  beside  those 
who  perished  in  the  field,  fell  that  night  beneath 
the  Prussian  lance  and  sabre.  In  vain  a  feeble 
effort  was  made  by  the  French  to  barricade  the 
streets  of  Genappe,  and  interrupt  the  progress  of  the 
conquerors.  Blucher  forced  the  passage  with  his 
cannon  ;  and  so  entirely  had  the  defeat  of  Waterloo 
extinguished  the  spirit,  and  destroyed  the  discipline, 
of  the  remnant  of  Napoleon's  army,  that  the  wild 
hurrah  of  the  pursuers,  or  the  very  blast  of  a  Prus 
sian  trumpet,  became  the  signal  for  flight  and  terror. 
But,  although  the  French  army  had  ceased  to 
exist  as  such,  and  now  (to  use  the  phrase  of  a 
Prussian  officer)  exhibited  rather  the  flight  of  a 


THE   FIELD    OF   BATTLE.  215 

scattered  horde  of  barbarians,  than  the  retreat  of  a 
disciplined  body,  never  had  it,  in  the  proudest  days 
of  its  glory,  shown  greater  devotion  to  its  leader,  or 
displayed  more  desperate  and  unyielding  bravery, 
than  during  the  long  and  sanguinary  battle  of  the 
18th.  The  plan  of  Buonaparte's  attack  was  worthy 
of  his  martial  renown  ;  it  was  unsuccessful ;  but 
let  this  be  ascribed  to  the  true  cause — the  heroic 
and  enduring  courage  of  the  troops  and  the  man  to 
whom  he  was  opposed.  Wellington  without  that 
army,  or  that  army  without  Wellington,  must  have 
fallen  beneath  the  splendid  efforts  of  Napoleon. 

While  a  mean  attempt  has  been  often  made  to 
lower  the  military  character  of  the  great  warrior 
who  is  now  no  more,  those  who  would  libel  Napoleon 
rob  Wellington  of  half  his  glory.  It  may  be  the 
proud  boast  of  England's  hero,  that  the  subjugator 
of  Europe  fell  before  him,  not  in  the  wane  of  his 
genius,  but  in  the  full  possession  of  those  martial 
talents  which  placed  him  foremost  in  the  list  of  con 
querors  ;  leading,  too,  that  very  army  which  had 
overthrown  every  power  that  had  opposed  it — now 
perfect  in  its  discipline,  flushed  with  recent  success, 
and  confident  of  approaching  victory. 

At  G-enappe,  and  not,  as  generally  believed,  at 
La  Belle  Alliance,  Wellington  and  Blucher  met 
after  the  battle.  The  moment  and  spot  were 
fitting  for  the  interview  of  conquerors.  To  Blucher's 
fresher  troops  the  task  of  an  unabating  pursuit  was 


216  THE    TOKEN. 

intrusted  ;  and  Wellington  returned  to  Waterloo, 
at  midnight,  across  the  crimson  field  which  that  day 
had  consummated  his  military  glory.  'Twas  said 
that  he  was  deeply  affected,  as,  "  by  the  pale  moon 
light,"  he  surveyed  the  terrible  scene  of  slaughter  he 
passed  over,  and  that  he  half  lamented  a  victory 
which  had  been  achieved  at  the  expense  of  many 
personal  friends,  and  thousands  of  his  gallant  sol 
diery. 

When  the  next  sun  rose,  the  field  of  battle  pre 
sented  a  tremendous  spectacle  of  carnage.  Human 
ity  shuddered  at  the  view ;  for  mortal  suffering,  in 
all  its  terrible  variety,  was  frightfully  exhibited.  The 
dead  lay  there  in  thousands — with  them  human  pain 
and  agony  were  over  ;  but  with  them  a  multitude  of 
maimed  wretches  were  intermingled,  mutilated  by 
wounds,  and  tortured  by  thirst  and  hunger.  A  few 
short  hours  had  elapsed,  and  those  who  but  yester 
day  had  careered  upon  the  plain  of  Waterloo,  in  the 
full  pride  of  life  and  manhood,  were  stretched  upon 
the  earth  ;  and  many  who  had  led  the  way  to  victory, 
who  with  exulting  hearts  had  cheered  their  colder 
comrades  when  they  quailed,  were  now  lying  on  the 
field  in  helpless  wretchedness. 

Nor  was  war's  misery  confined  to  man,  for 
thousands  of  wounded  horses  were  strewn  over  this 
scene  of  slaughter.  Some  lay  quietly  on  the  ground, 
cropping  the  grass  within  their  reach ;  some  with 


THE   FIELD  OF  BATTLE.  217 

deep   moaning    expressed    their   sufferings ;    while 
others,  maddened  with  pain, — 

"  Yerk'd  out  their  armed  heels  at  their  dead  masters, 
Killing  them  twice." 

When  day  came,  and  it  was  possible  to  send  re 
lief  to  the  wounded,  many  circumstances  tended  to 
retard  the  welcome  succor.  The  great  road  to 
Brussels,  from  heavy  rains,  and  the  incessant  passage 
of  artillery  and  war  equipages,  was  so  cut  up,  as  to 
materially  retard  the  carriages  employed  to  bring  in 
the  wounded.  Dead  horses  and  abandoned  baggage 
choked  the  causeway,  and  the  efforts  of  Belgic  hu 
manity  were  rendered  slow  and  difficult.  Up  to  the 
very  gates  of  Brussels,  "  war's  worst  results  "  were 
visible  :  the  struggles  of  expiring  nature  had  enabled 
some  to  reach  the  city,  while  many  perished  in  the 
attempt  ;  and,  dying  on  the  roadside,  covered  the 
causeway  with  their  bodies.  Pits,  rudely  dug,  and 
scarcely  moulded  over,  received  the  corpses,  which 
daily  became  more  offensive  from  the  heat ;  and  the 
same  sod,  at  the  verge  of  the  forest,  covered  "  the 
horse  and  his  rider/' 

When  such  evidence  of  destruction  was  apparent 
at  a  distance  from  the  field,  what  a  display  of  devas 
tation  the  narrow  theatre  of  yesterday's  conflict  must 
have  presented  !  Fancy  may  conceive  it,  but  descrip 
tion  will  necessarily  be  scanty  and  imperfect.  On 
the  small  surface  of  two  square  miles,  it  was  ascer- 


218  THE    TOKEN. 

tained  that  50,000  men  and  horses  were  lying  !  The 
luxurious  crop  of  ripe  grain  which  had  covered  the 
field  of  battle  was  reduced  to  litter  and  beaten  into 
the  earth  ;  and  the  surface,  trodden  down  by  the  cav 
alry,  arid  furrowed  deeply  by  cannon-wheels,  strewn 
with  many  a  relic  of  the  fight.  Helmets  and  cui 
rasses,  shattered  fire-arms  and  broken  swords ;  all  the 
variety  of  military  ornaments  ;  lancer  caps  and  High 
land  bonnets,  uniforms  of  every  color,  plume  and  pen 
non,  musical  instruments,  the  apparatus  of  artillery, 
drums,  bugles  ;  but,  good  God  !  why  dwell  on  the 
harrowing  picture  of  "  a  foughten  field  ?  " — each  and 
every  ruinous  display  bore  mute  testimony  to  the 
misery  of  such  a  battle. 

Could  the  melancholy  appearance  of  this  scene 
of  death  be  heightened,  it  would  be  by  witnessing 
the  researches  of  the  living,  amidst  its  desolation,  for 
the  objects  of  their  love.  Mothers,  and  wives,  and 
children  for  days  were  occupied  in  that  mournful 
duty ;  and  the  confusion  of  the  corpses,  friend  and 
foe  intermingled  as  they  were,  often  rendered  the 
attempt  at  recognising  individuals  difficult,  and,  in 
some  cases,  impossible. 

In  many  places  the  dead  lay  four  deep  upon  each 
other,  marking  the  spot  some  British  square  had 
occupied,  when  exposed  for  hours  to  the  murderous 
fire  of  a  French  battery.  Outside,  lancer  and  cui 
rassier  were  scattered  thickly  on  the  earth.  Madly 
attempting  to  force  the  serried  bayonets  of  the  Brit- 


THE   FIELD   OF  BATTLE.  219 

ish,  they  had  fallen  in  the  bootless  essay  by  the  mus 
ketry  of  the  inner  files.  Farther  on,  you  traced  the 
spot  where  the  cavalry  of  France  and  England  had 
encountered.  Chasseur  and  hussar  were  intermin 
gled  ;  and  the  heavy  Norman  horse  of  the  Imperial 
Guard  were  interspersed  with  the  grey  chargers  which 
had  carried  Albyn's  chivalry.  Here  the  Highlander 
and  tirailleur  lay,  side  by  side,  together  ;  and  the 
heavy  dragoon,  with  "  green  Erin's  "  badge  upon  his 
helmet,  was  grappled  in  death  with  the  Polish  lancer. 

On  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  where  the  ground 
was  cumbered  with  dead,  and  trodden  fetlock-deep, 
in  mud  and  gore,  by  the  frequent  rush  of  rival  caval 
ry,  the  thick-strewn  corpses  of  the  Imperial  Guard 
pointed  out  the  spot  where  the  last  effort  of  Napo 
leon  had  been  defeated.  Here,  in  column,  that  fa 
vorite  corps,  on  whom  his  last  chance  rested,  had 
been  annihilated  ;  and  the  advance  and  repulse  of 
the  Guard  was  traceable  by  a  mass  of  fallen  French 
men.  In  the  hollow  below,  the  last  struggle  of  France 
had  been  vainly  made  ;  for  there  the  Old  Guard, 
when  the  middle  battalions  had  been  forced  back, 
attempted  to  meet  the  British,  and  afford  time  for 
their  disorganized  companions  to  rally.  Here  the 
British  left,  which  had  converged  upon  the  French 
centre,  had  come  up  ;  and  here  the  bayonet  closed 
the  contest. 

It  was  at  the  first'light  of  morning  that  a  solitary 
party  were  employed,  in  the  place  we  have  described, 


220  THE    TOKEN. 

examining  the  dead,  who  lay  there  thickly.  They 
were  no  plunderers :  one,  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  direct 
ed  the  researches  of  the  rest,  who  acted  under  the 
stranger's  control,  and,  from  their  dress,  appeared  to 
be  Belgian  peasants.  Suddenly  the  muffled  person 
uttered  a  wild  cry ;  and,  rushing  over  a  pile  of  corpses, 
hurried  to  a  spot  where  a  soldier  was  seated  beside  a 
fallen  officer.  Feeble  as  his  own  strength  was,  he  had 
exerted  it  to  protect  the  wounded  man.  His  musket 
was  placed  beside  him  for  defence,  and  his  own  suf 
ferings  forgotten  in  his  solicitude  for  the  person  he 
was  watching.  The  noise  occasioned  by  the  hasty 
approach  of  the  muffled  stranger  roused  the  wounded 
officer,  and  he  raised  his  head :  "  It  is  herself !  "  he 
feebly  muttered  ;  and  next  moment  sank  in  the 
arms  of  Lucy  Davidson  ! 


NOSE,  THE  DWARF. 

BY    W.    HAUFF. 

[This  story  is  from  the  collection  called  "  The  Sheik  of  Alexau 
dria  and  his  Slaves,"  and  is  supposed  to  be  told  hy  a  slave  to  the 
Sheik.] 

SIR,  those  people  are  much  mistaken  who  fancy 
that  there  were  no  fairies  and  enchanters,  except  in 
the  time  of  Haroun  Al  Raschid,  Lord  of  Bagdad,  or 
even  pronounce  untrue  those  accounts  of  the  deeds 
of  genii  and  their  princes,  which  one -hears  the  story 
tellers  relate  in  the  market-places  of  the  town. 
There  are  fairies  nowadays,  and  it  is  but  a  short 
time  since  that  I  myself  was  witness  of  an  occur 
rence  in  which  genii  were  evidently  playing  a  part, 
as  you  will  see  from  my  narrative.  In  a  considera 
ble  town  of  my  dear  fatherland,  Germany,  there 
lived  many  years  ago  a  cobbler,  with  his  wife,  in  an 
humble  but  honest  way.  In  the  daytime  he  used  to 
sit  at  the  corner  of  a  street  mending  shoes  and  slip 
pers  ;  he  did  not  refuse  making  new  ones  if  any  body 
would  trust  him,  but  then  he  was  obliged  to  buy 
the  leather  first,  as  his  poverty  did  not  enable  him 
to  keep  a  stock.  His  wife  sold  vegetables  and  fruit, 


222  THE  TOKEN. 

which  she  cultivated  in  a  small  garden  outside  the 
town-gates,  and  many  people  were  glad  to  buy  of 
her,  because  she  was  dressed  cleanly  and  neatly,  and 
knew  well  how  to  arrange  and  lay  out  her  things  to 
the  best  advantage. 

Now  this  worthy  couple  had  a  beautiful  boy,  of 
a  sweet  countenance,  well  made,  and  rather  tall  for 
his  age,  which  was  eight  years.  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  sitting  in  the  market  with  his  mother,  and 
often  carried  home  part  of  the  fruit  and  vegetables 
for  the  women  and  cooks  who  had  made  large  pur 
chases  ;  he  seldom,  however,  returned  from  one  of 
these  journeys  without  bringing  either  a  beautiful 
flower,  a  piece  of  money,  or  a  cake,  which  the  mis 
tresses  of  such  cooks  gave  him  as  a  present,  because 
they  were  always  pleased  to  see  the  handsome  boy 
come  to  the  house. 

One  day  the  cobbler's  wife  was  sitting  as  usual  in 
the  market-place,  having  before  her  some  baskets 
with  cabbages  and  other  vegetables,  various  herbs 
and  seeds,  besides  some  early  pears,  apples  and  apri 
cots,  in  a  small  basket.  Little  James  (this  was  the 
boy's  name)  sat  by  her,  crying  the  things  for  sale  in 
a  loud  voice  :  "  This  way,  gentlemen,  see  what  beau 
tiful  cabbages,  what  fragrant  herbs ;  early  pears, 
ladies,  early  apples  and  apricots ;  who  will  buy  ? 
My  mother  sells  cheap." 

While  the  boy  was  thus  crying,  an  old  woman 
was  coming  across  the  market ;  her  dress  was  rather 


NOSE,   THE   DWARF.  223 

tattered  and  in  rags,  she  had  a  small,  sharp  face, 
quite  furrowed  with  age,  red  eyes,  and  a  pointed, 
crooked  nose,  which  reached  down  to  her  chin  ;  in 
her  walk  she  supported  herself  by  a  long  stick,  and 
yet  it  was  difficult  to  say  exactly  how  she  walked, 
for  she  hobbled  and  shuffled  along,  and  waddled  as 
if  she  were  on  castors,  and  it  was  as  if  she  must  fall 
down  every  instant  and  break  her  pointed  nose  on 
the  pavement. 

The  cobbler's  wife  looked  attentively  at  this  old 
woman.  For  sixteen  years  she  had  been  sitting  dai 
ly  in  the  market,  yet  she  had  never  observed  this 
strange  figure,  and  therefore  involuntarily  shudder 
ed  when  she  saw  the  old  hag  hobbling  towards  her 
and  stopping  before  her  baskets. 

"  Are  you  Jane,  the  greengrocer  ?  "  she  asked  in 
a  disagreeable,  croaking  voice,  shaking  her  head  to 
and  fro. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  the  cobbler's  wife  ;  "  What 
is  your  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Well  see,  we'll  see,  we'll  look  at  your  herbs — 
look  at  your  herbs,  to  see  whether  you  have  what  I 
want/'  answered  the  old  woman  ;  and  stooping  down 
she  thrust  her  dark  brown,  unsightly  hands  into  the 
herb-basket,  and  took  up  some  that  were  beautiful 
ly  spread  out,  with  her  long  spider-legged  fingers, 
bringing  them  one  by  one  up  to  her  long  nose,  and 
smelling  them  all  over.  The  poor  woman  almost 
felt  her  heart  break  when  she  saw  the  old  hag  han- 


224  THE    TOKEN. 

die  her  herbs  in  this  manner,  but  she  dared  not  say 
any  thing  to  her,  the  purchasers  having  a  right  to 
examine  the  things  as  they  pleased  ;  besides  which, 
she  felt  a  singular  awe  in  the  presence  of  this  old 
woman.  After  having  searched  the  whole  basket, 
she  muttered,  "  wretched  stuff,  wretched  herbs,  no 
thing  that  I  want — were  much  better  fifty  years 
ago — wretched  stuff  !  wretched  stuff !  " 

Little  James  was  vexed  at  these  words.  "  Hark 
ye,"  he  cried,  boldly,  "you  are  an  impudent  old  wo 
man  ;  first  you  thrust  your  nasty  brown  fingers  into 
these  beautiful  herbs,  and  squeeze  them  together, 
then  you  hold  them  up  to  your  long  nose,  so  that 
no  one  seeing  this  will  buy  them  after  you,  and  you 
abuse  our  goods,  calling  them  wretched  stuff,  though 
nevertheless  the  duke's  cook  himself  buys  all  his 
herbs  of  us." 

The  old  woman  leered  at  the  bold  boy,  laughed 
disgustingly,  and  said  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "  Little  son, 
little  son,  you  like  my  nose  then,  my  beautiful  long 
nose  ?  You  shall  have  one  too  in  the  middle  of 
your  face  that  shall  reach  down  to  your  chin." 

While  she  thus  spoke  she  shuffled  up  to  another 
basket  containing  cabbages.  She  took  the  most 
beautiful  white  heads  up  in  her  hand,  squeezed  them 
together  till  they  squeaked,  and  then  throwing  them 
into  the  basket  again  without  regard  to  order,  said 
as  before,  "  Wretched  things  !  wretched  cabbages  !  " 

"  Don't  wriggle  your  head  about  in  that  ugly 


225 

fashion,"  cried  the  little  boy  somewhat  frightened  ; 
"  why  your  neck  is  as  thin  as  a  cabbage-stalk,  and 
might  easily  break,  then  your  head  would  fall  into 
the  basket,  and  who  would  buy  of  us  ?  " 

"  You  don't  like  such  thin  necks  then,  eh  ?  " 
muttered  the  old  woman  with  a  laugh.  "  You  shall 
have  none  at  all,  your  head  shall  be  fixed  between 
your  shoulders,  that  it  may  not  fall  down  from  the 
little  body." 

"  Don't  talk  such  nonsense  to  the  little  boy,"  at 
length  said  the  cobbler's  wife,  indignant  at  the  long- 
looking,  examining,  and  smelling  of  the  things  ;  "  if 
you  wish  to  buy  any  thing  be  quick,  for  you  scare 
away  all  my  other  customers." 

"  Well,  be  it  as  you  say,"  cried  the  old  woman, 
with  a  furious  look,  "  I  will  buy  these  six  heads  of 
cabbages  ;  but  you  see  I  must  support  myself  by  my 
stick,  and  cannot  carry  any  thing,  therefore,  allow 
your  little  son  to  carry  them  home  for  me,  I  will  re 
ward  him  for  it." 

The  little  boy  would  not  go  with  her,  and  began 
to  cry,  for  he  was  terrified  at  the  ugly  old  woman, 
but  his  mother  commanded  him  earnestly  to  go,  as 
she  thought  it  a  sin  to  load  the  feeble  old  soul  with 
this  burden.  Still  sobbing,  he  did  as  he  was  order 
ed,  and  followed  the  old  woman  over  the  market. 

She  proceeded  but  slowly,  and  was  almost  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  before  she  arrived  at  a  very  re 
mote  part  of  the  town,  where  she  at  length  stopped 
11 


226  THE    TOKEN. 

in  front  of  a  small  dilapidated  house.  She  now  pull 
ed  out  of  her  pocket  an  old  rusty  hook,  and  thrust 
it  dexterously  into  a  small  hole  in  the  door,  which 
immediately  opened  with  a  crash.  But  what  was 
the  astonishment  of  little  James  as  he  entered  ! 
The  interior  of  the  house  was  magnificently  adorn 
ed,  the  ceiling  and  walls  were  of  marble,  the  furni 
ture  of  the  most  beautiful  ebony,  inlaid  with  gold 
and  polished  stones,  the  floor  was  of  glass,  and  so 
smooth,  that  little  James  several  times  slipped  and 
fell  down.  The  old  woman  now  took  a  small  silver 
whistle  from  her  pocket,  and  blew  a  tune  on  it 
which  sounded  shrilly  through  the  house.  Immedi 
ately  some  guinea-pigs  came  down  the  stairs,  and 
little  James  was  much  amazed  at  their  walking  up 
right  on  their  hind  legs,  wearing  on  their  paws  nut 
shells  instead  of  shoes,  men's  clothes  on  their  bodies, 
and  even  hats  in  the  newest  fashion  on  their  heads. 

"  Where  are  my  slippers,  ye  rascally  crew  ?  " 
cried  the  old  woman,  striking  at  them  with  her  stick, 
so  that  they  jumped  squeaking  into  the  air  ;  "  how 
long  am  I  to  stand  here  waiting  ?  " 

They  quickly  scampered  up  the  stairs,  and  re 
turned  with  a  pair  of  cocoa-nut  shells  lined  with 
leather,  which  they  placed  dexterously  upon  the  old 
woman's  feet. 

Now  all  her  limping  and  shuffling  was  at  an  end. 
She  threw  away  her  stick,  and  glided  with  great  ra 
pidity  over  the  glass  floor,  pulling  little  James  after 


NOSE,   THE  DWARF.  227 

her  with  her  hand.  At  length  she  stopped  in  a 
room  which  was  adorned  with  a  great  variety  of 
utensils,  and  which  almost  resembled  a  kitchen,  al 
though  the  tables  were  of  mahogany,  and  the  sofas 
covered  with  rich  cloth,  more  fit  for  a  drawing-room. 
"  Sit  down,"  said  the  old  woman,  very  kindly, 
pressing  him  into  a  corner  of  a  sofa,  and  placing  a 
table  before  him  in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  not 
get  out  again  ;  "  sit  down,  you  have  had  a  heavy 
load  to  carry,  human  heads  are  not  so  light — not  so 
light." 

"  But,  woman,"  replied  the  little  boy,  "  you  talk 
very  strangely  ;  I  am,  indeed,  tired,  but  they  were 
cabbage  heads  I  was  carrying,  and  you  bought  them 
of  my  mother." 

"  Why,  you  know  but  little  about  that,"  said 
the  old  woman,  laughing,  as  she  took  the  lid  from 
the  basket  and  brought  out  a  human  head,  which 
she  held  by  the  hair.  The  little  boy  was  frightened 
out  of  his  senses  at  this  ;  he  could  not  comprehend 
how  it  all  came  to  pass  ;  and  thinking  of  his  mother, 
he  said  to  himself,  "  If  any  one  were  to  hear  of  these 
human  heads,  my  mother  would  certainly  be  prose 
cuted." 

"  I  must  give  you  some  reward  now,  as  you  are 
so  good,"  muttered  the  old  woman  ;  "  have  patience 
for  a  minute,  and  I  will  prepare  you  a  soup  which 
you  will  remember  all  your  life."  Having  said  this, 
she  whistled  again,  and  immediately  there  came  first 


228  THE    TOKEN. 

some  guinea-pigs  dressed  like  human  beings  ;  the} 
had  tied  round  them  kitchen  aprons,  fastened  by  a 
belt,  in  which  were  stuck  ladles  and  carving-knives  ; 
after  them  came  skipping  in  a  number  of  squirrels, 
that  wore  large,  wide  Turkish  trousers,  walked  up 
right,  and  had  small  caps  of  green  velvet  on  their 
heads.  These  seemed  to  be  the  scullions,  for  they 
climbed  very  nimbly  up  the  walls  and  brought  down 
pans  and  dishes,  eggs  and  butter,  herbs  and  flour, 
and  carried  it  to  the  hearth.  The  old  woman  slided 
continually  to  and  fro  upon  her  cocoa-nut  slippers, 
and  little  James  observed  that  she  was  very  anxious 
to  cook  something  good  for  him.  Now  the  fire 
crackled  and  blazed  up  higher,  there  was  a  smoking 
and  bubbling  in  the  saucepan,  and  a  pleasant  odor 
spread  over  the  room,  but  the  old  woman  kept  run 
ning  up  and  down,  the  squirrels  and  guinea-pigs  after 
her,  and  as  often  as  she  passed  the  hearth  she  poked 
her  long  nose  into  the  pot.  At  length  it  began  to 
boil  and  hiss,  the  steam  rose  from  the  pot,  and  the 
scum  flowed  down  into  the  fire.  She  then  took  off 
the  saucepan,  and  pouring  some  into  a  silver  basin, 
gave  it  to  James. 

"  Now,  my  dear  little  son,  now,"  said  she,  "  eat 
this  soup  and  you  will  have  in  your  own  person  all  that 
you  admired  so  much  in  me.  You  shall  moreover 
become  a  clever  cook,  that  you  may  be  something  at 
least,  but  as  for  the  herb,  that  you  shall  never  find, 
because  your  mother  did  not  have  it  in  her  basket." 


NOSE,   THE  DWARF.  229 

The  little  boy  did  not  exactly  understand  what 
she  was  saying,  but  was  the  more  attentive  to  eating 
his  soup,  which  he  relished  uncommonly.  His  mo 
ther  had  cooked  various  savory  soups^  but  never  any 
like  this.  The  flavor  of  the  fine  herbs  and  spice 
ascended  from  it,  and  it  was  at  the  same  time  very 
sweet,  and  very  sharp  and  strong.  While  he  was 
sipping  the  last  drops  of  the  delicious  soup,  the 
guinea-pigs  lighted  some  Arabian  incense  which 
floated  through  the  room  in  blue  clouds,  which  be 
came  thicker  and  thicker,  and  then  descended.  The 
smell  of  the  incense  had  a  stupefying  effect  upon  the 
boy ;  in  vain  did  he  repeatedly  say  to  himself  that 
he  must  return  to  his  mother,  for  as  often  as  he  en 
deavored  to  rouse  himself  as  often  did  he  relapse  into 
slumber,  and,  at  length,  actually  fell  into  a  profound 
sleep  upon  the  old  woman's  sofa. 

Strange  dreams  came  over  him  while  he  thus 
slept.  It  seemed  as  if  the  old  woman  was  taking 
off  his  clothes,  and  putting  on  him  the  skin  of  a 
squirrel.  Now  he  could  make  bounds  and  climb  like 
a  squirrel ;  he  associated  with  the  other  squirrels  and 
guinea-pigs,  who  were  all  very  polite,  decent  people, 
and  he  did  his  duty  of  waiting  upon  the  old  woman 
in  his  turn  with  the  rest.  At  first  he  had  to  perform 
the  service  of  a  shoeblack,  that  is,  he  had  to  oil  and 
polish  the  cocoa-nut  shells  which  his  mistress  wore 
instead  of  slippers.  Having  often  blacked  and  pol 
ished  shoes  at  home,  he  performed  his  duty  well  and 


230  THE    TOKEN. 

quickly.  After  the  lapse  of  about  one  year,  he  dreamt 
again,  (according  to  the  sequel  of  his  dream,)  that 
he  was  employed  for  more  delicate  work,  that  is,  in 
company  with  some  other  squirrels,  he  was  obliged 
to  catch  the  atoms  in  the  sun,  and,  when  they  had 
caught  enough,  to  sift  them  through  the  finest  hair- 
sieve,  as  the  old  woman  considered  them  the  nicest 
thing,  and  not  being  able  to  masticate  well  for  want 
of  teeth,  had  her  bread  prepared  of  such  atoms. 

At  the  end  of  another  year,  he  was  raised  to  the 
rank  of  one  of  the  servants  who  had  to  collect  the 
water  the  old  woman  drank.  But  you  must  not 
suppose  that  she  had  a  cistern  dug  for  that  purpose, 
or  a  tub  placed  in  the  yard  to  catch  the  rain-water  ; 
she  had  a  much  finer  plan.  The  squirrels,  and  James 
with  them,  had  to  collect  in  their  hazel-nut  shells 
the  dew  from  roses,  and  this  was  the  beverage  of  the 
old  woman.  The  labor  of  these  water-carriers  was 
not  a  very  light  one,  as  she  used  to  drink  a  pro 
digious  quantity.  After  another  year,  he  was  em 
ployed  in  indoor  service,  his  duty  being  to  clean  the 
floors,  and  as  they  were  of  glass  and  showed  the  least 
speck,  it  was  not  a  very  easy  task.  He  and  his  fel 
low-servants  were  obliged  to  brush  the  floors,  and 
with  pieces  of  old  cloth  tied  to  their  feet  dexterously 
skated  about  the  rooms.  In  the  fourth  year,  he 
received  an  appointment  in  the  kitchen,  which  was 
so  honorable  an  office,  that  one  could  succeed  to  it 
only  after  a  long  probation.  James  here  served  from 


NOSE,    THE   DWARF.  231 


scullion  upwards  to  the  post  of  first  pastrycook,  and 
acquired  such  an  extraordinary  skill  and  experience 
in  every  thing  relating  to  the  culinary  art,  that  often 
he  could  not  help  wondering  at  himself ;  the  most 
difficult  things,  pies  composed  of  two  hundred  differ 
ent  ingredients,  soups  prepared  with  all  the  herhs  of 
the  globe, — all  these,  and  many  other  things,  he 
learned  to  make  quickly  and  efficiently. 

Seven  years  had  thus  passed  away  in  the  service 
of  the  old  woman,  when  one  day,  pulling  off  her 
shoes  of  cocoa-nut,  and  taking  her  basket  and  crutch 
in  hand  in  order  to  go  out,  she  told  him  to  pluck  a 
chicken,  stuff  it  with  herbs,  and  roast  it  nice  and 
brown,  during  her  absence.     He  did  this  according 
to  the  rules  of  his  art ;  twisted  the  chicken's  neck, 
scalded  it  in  hot  water,  pulled  out  the  feathers  clev 
erly,  scraped  its  skin  smooth  and  fine,  and  then  drew 
it.     Next  he  began  gathering  the  herbs  with  which 
he  was  to  stuff  the  chicken.     Now  when  he  came  to 
the  chamber  where  these  herbs  were  kept,  he  per 
ceived  a  small  cupboard  in  the  wall  that  he  had  never 
before  noticed,  and  finding  the  door  of  it  half  open, 
he  had  the  curiosity  to  go  near,  in  order  to  see  what 
it  contained,  when  behold  !  there  stood  a  great  many 
little  baskets  in  it,  from  which  proceeded  a  strong 
pleasant  smell.     He  opened  one  of  these  little  bas 
kets,  and  found  in  it  an  herb  of  a  most  singular  form 
and  color ;    its  stalks  and  leaves  were  of  a  bluish 
green,  and  it  had  a  flower  of  burning  red  fringed 


232  THE    TOKEN. 

with  yellow  at  the  top.  He  loooked  thoughtfully  at 
this  flower,  and  smelled  it,  when  it  emitted  the  same 
powerful  odor  as  the  soup  which  the  old  woman  had 
cooked  for  him  when  he  first  came  there.  But  the 
smell  was  so  strong  that  he  began  to  sneeze,  was 
obliged  to  keep  sneezing,  and  at  last  awoke,  sneezing 
still. 

He  now  found  himself  upon  the  old  woman's  sofa, 
and  looked  around  him  with  astonishment.  "  Heav 
ens  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  how  vividly  one  may 
dream  ;  I  would  almost  have  sworn  that  I  was  a 
wanton  squirrel, — a  companion  of  guinea-pigs  and 
other  vermin,  but  at  the  same  time  had  become  a 
great  cook.  How  my  mother  will  laugh  when  I  tell 
her  all  this  !  But  will  she  not  also  scold  me  for 
falling  asleep  in  a  strange  house  instead  of  helping 
her  in  the  market  ? "  While  engaged  in  these 
thoughts,  he  started  up  to  run  away  ;  but  his  limbs 
were  still  quite  stiff  with  sleep,  and  particularly  his 
neck,  for  he  was  unable  to  move  his  head  well  to  and 
fro.  He  could  not  help  smiling  at  himself  and  his 
drowsiness,  for  every  moment,  before  he  was  aware, 
he  ran  his  nose  against  a  cupboard  or  the  wall,  or 
turning  suddenly  round,  struck  it  against  a  door 
post.  The  squirrels  and  guinea-pigs  crowded  whining 
around  him,  as  if  anxious  to  accompany  him,  and  he 
actually  invited  them  to  do  so  when  he  was  en  the 
threshold,  for  they  were  nice  little  creatures,  but 
they  glided  quickly  back  into  the  house  on  their  nut- 


NOSE,   THE  DWARF.  233 

shells,  and  he  only  heard  them  howling  at  a  dis 
tance. 

As  it  was  a  very  remote  part  of  the  town  to 
which  the  old  woman  had  brought  him,  he  could 
hardly  find  his  way  through  the  narrow  streets,  and 
as,  moreover,  there  was  a  great  crowd  of  people, 
wherever  he  went,  he  could  only  account  for  this  by 
supposing  there  must  be  a  dwarf  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  for  show,  for  he  heard  every  where 
cries  of,  "  Only  look  at  the  ugly  dwarf !  Where 
does  the  dwarf  come  from  ?  0  !  what  a  long  nose 
he  has,  and  how  his  head  sits  between  his  shoulders, 
and  look  at  his  brown  ugly  hands  !  "  At  any  other 
time,  he  would  probably  have  followed  the  cry,  for 
he  was  very  fond  of  seeing  giants  and  dwarfs,  and 
any  sort  of  curious,  foreign  costume,  but  now  he  was 
obliged  to  hurry  and  get  to  his  mother. 

He  felt  quite  weary  when  he  arrived  at  the  mar 
ket.  He  found  his  mother  still  sitting  there,  and 
she  had  a  tolerable  quantity  of  fruit  in  the  basket ; 
he  could  not  therefore  have  been  sleeping  long,  but 
still  it  appeared  to  him,  even  at  a  distance,  as  if  she 
were  very  melancholy,  for  she  did  not  call  to  those 
coming  past  to  buy,  but  supported  her  head  by  one 
hand,  and  on  coming  closer  he  likewise  thought  she 
looked  paler  than  usual.  He  hesitated  as  to  what 
he  should  do  ;  and  at  length  mustering  up  courage, 
crept  gently  behind  her,  and  putting  his  hand  fa- 

11* 


234  THE    TOKEN. 

miliarly  upon  her  arm,  asked,  "  Dear  mother,  what's 
the  matter  with  you  ?  are  you  angry  with  me  ?  " 

The  woman  turned  round,  but  started  back  with 
a  shriek  of  terror,  saying,  "  What  do  you  want  with 
me,  you  ugly  dwarf  ?  Begone,  begone  !  I  do  not 
like  such  jokes." 

"  But,  mother,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 
asked  James,  quite  terrified  ;  "  surely  you  must  be 
unwell  ;  why  will  you  turn  your  son  away  from 
you  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  already  to  be  gone/'  replied 
Jane,  angrily  ;  "  you  will  not  get  any  money  from 
me  by  your  juggleries,  you  ill-favored  monster." 

"  Surely  God  has  deprived  her  of  the  light  of  her 
intellect,"  said  the  dwarf,  deeply  grieved  within  him 
self;  "what  shall  I  do  to  get  her  home?  Dear 
mother,  pray  do  listen  to  reason  ;  only  look  well  at 
me,  I  am  indeed  your  son — your  own  James." 

"  Why  this  is  carrying  the  joke  too  far,"  she  said 
to  her  neighbor  ;  "  only  look  at  that  ugly  dwarf ; 
there  he  stands,  and  will  no  doubt  drive  away  all  my 
customers ;  nay,  he  even  dares  to  ridicule  my  mis 
fortune,  telling  me  that  he  is  my  son,  my  own  James, 
the  impudent  fellow." 

At  this  her  neighbors  rose,  and  began  as  much 
abuse  as  possible,  (every  one  knows  that  market  wo 
men  understand  this  well,)  and  reproaching  him  with 
making  light  of  poor  Jane's  misfortune,  who  seven 
years  ago  had  had  her  beautiful  boy  kidnapped,  with 


NOSE,   THE  DWAKF.  235 

one  accord  they  threatened  to  fall  upon  him  and  tear 
him  to  pieces,  unless  he  took  himself  off  immediately. 

Poor  James  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  all 
this.  Indeed  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  that  very 
morning,  as  usual,  gone  to  market  with  his  mother,  had 
helped  her  to  lay  out  her  fruit,  and  had  afterwards 
gone  with  the  old  woman  to  her  house,  eaten  some 
soup,  slept  a  little  while,  and  had  now  come  back  ; 
and  yet  his  mother  and  his  neighbors  talked  of  seven 
years,  calling  him  at  the  same  time  an  ugly  dwarf. 
What  then  was  the  change  that  had  come  over  him  ? 
Seeing,  at  length,  that  his  mother  would  no  longer 
listen  to  any  thing  he  said,  he  felt  the  tears  come  in 
his  eyes,  and  went  sorrowfully  down  the  street  to 
wards  the  stall  where  his  father  sat  in  the  daytime, 
mending  shoes. 

"  I  am  curious  to  see,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  whether  he,  too,  will  disown  me  ?  I  will  place 
myself  in  the  doorway  and  talk  to  him."  And  having 
come  there,  he  did  so  and  looked  in. 

The  cobbler  was  so  busily  engaged  at  work  that 
he  did  not  see  him  ;  but  happening  to  cast  a  look 
towards  the  door,  he  dropped  shoe,  twine,  and  awl 
on  the  ground,  and  cried,  with  astonishment,  "  For 
Heaven's  sake,  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Good  evening,  master,"  said  the  little  dwarf, 
stepping  inside  the  booth.  "  How  fare  you  ?  " 

"  Badly,  badly,  my  little  gentleman,"  replied 
James's  father,  to  his  utter  amazement ;  for  he,  too, 


236  THE    TOKEN. 

did  not  seem  to  recognise  him.  "  I  have  to  do  all 
the  work  myself,  for  I  am  alone  and  now  getting  old, 
and  yet  I  cannot  afford  to  keep  a  journeyman." 

"  But  have  you  no  son  to  assist  you  in  your 
work  ?  "  inquired  the  dwarf  further. 

"Indeed  I  had  one,  whose  name  was  James, 
and  he  now  must  be  a  handsome,  quick  lad,  twenty 
years  old,  who  might  effectually  assist  me.  Ah  ! 
what  a  pleasant  life  I  should  lead  I  Even  when  he 
was  twelve  years  old  he  showed  himself  quite  handy 
and  clever,  and  understood  a  great  deal  of  the  busi 
ness.  He  was  a  fine  engaging  little  fellow  ;  he 
would  soon  have  brought  me  plenty  of  custom,  so 
that  I  should  no  longer  have  been  mending  shoes 
and  boots  but  making  new  ones.  But  so  goes  the 
world." 

"  Where  is  your  son,  then  ?  "  asked  James,  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

"  That  God  only  knows,"  replied  his  father. 
"  Seven  years  ago,  yes  !  it  is  just  that  now,  he  was 
stolen  from  us  in  the  market-place." 

"  Seven  years  ago,  you  say  ?  "  cried  James,  with 
astonishment. 

"  Yes,  little  gentleman,  seven  years  ago  ;  the 
circumstance  is  as  fresh  in  my  memory  as  if  it  had 
happened  to-day,  how  my  poor  wife  came  home  weep 
ing  and  crying,  saying  that  the  child  had  not  come 
back  all  day,  and  that  she  had  inquired  and  searched 
everywhere  without  finding  him.  But  I  always  said 


NOSE,   THE   DWAEF.  237 

it  would  come  to  that ;  for  James  was  a  pretty 
child,  no  one  could  help  saying  so,  therefore  my  poor 
wife  was  proud  of  him  and  fond  of  hearing  people 
praise  him,  and  often  sent  him  with  vegetables  and 
such  like  things  to  the  houses  of  the  gentlefolks.  All 
this  was  very  well ;  he  always  received  some  present. 
But,  said  I,  mark  me,  the  town  is  large,  and  there 
are  many  bad  people  in  it,  so  take  care  of  James. 
But  it  happened  as  I  always  said.  Once  there  comes 
an  ugly  old  woman  to  the  market,  bargains  for  some 
fruits  and  vegetables,  and  at  length  buys  so  much 
that  she  cannot  carry  it  home  herself.  My  wife, 
kind  soul,  sends  the  lad  with  her,  and — has  never 
seen  him  again  since  that  hour." 

"  And  that  is  now  seven  years,  say  you  ?  " 
"  Seven  years  this  spring.  We  had  him  cried  in 
the  town,  we  went  from  house  to  house,  inquiring  ; 
many  had  known  and  liked  the  pretty  lad,  and 
searched  with  us,  but  all  in  vain.  Neither  did  any 
one  know  the  woman  who  bought  the  vegetables ;  a 
very  aged  woman,  however,  ninety  years  old,  said, 
6  it  might  possibly  have  been  the  wicked  fairy, 
Krauterweis,  who  once  in  fifty  years  comes  to  the 
town  to  buy  various  articles." ' 

Thus  spoke  James's  father  hastily,  hammering  his 
shoes  at  the  same  time,  and  drawing  out  at  great 
length  the  twine  with  both  hands.  Now  by  degrees 
light  broke  on  the  little  dwarf's  mind,  and  he  saw 
what  had  happened  to  him,  viz.,  that  he  had  not  been 


238  THE  TOKEN. 

dreaming,  but  had  served  as  a  squirrel  seven  years 
with  the  evil  fairy.  Kage  and  sorrow  now  filled  his 
heart  almost  to  bursting. 

The  old  witch  had  robbed  him  of  seven  years  of 
his  youth,  and  what  had  he  in  exchange  ?  What 
was  it  that  he  could  polish  slippers  of  cocoa-nut  shell  ? 
that  he  could  clean  rooms  with  glass  floors  ?  that  he 
had  learned  all  the  mysteries  of  cooking,  from  the 
guinea  pigs  ?  Thus  he  stood  for  some  time  medi 
tating  on  his  fate,  when  at  length  his  father  asked 
him — 

"  Do  you  want  to  purchase  any  thing,  young 
gentleman  ?  Perhaps  a  pair  of  new  slippers,  or,  per- 
adveriture,  a  case  for  your  nose  ?  "  he  added,  smiling. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  my  nose  ? "  asked 
James  ;  "  why  should  I  want  a  case  for  it  ?  " 

"  Why/'  replied  the  cobbler,  "  every  one  according 
to  his  taste ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  that  if  I  had  such  a 
terrible  nose,  I  should  have  a  case  made  for  it  of  rose- 
colored  morocco.  Look  here,  I  have  a  beautiful  piece 
that  is  just  the  thing  ;  indeed  we  should  at  least 
want  a  yard  for  it.  It  would  then  be  well  guarded, 
my  little  gentleman  ;  whereas  now  I  am  sure  you 
will  knock  it  against  every  door-post  and  carriage 
you  would  wish  to  avoid." 

The  dwarf  was  struck  dumb  with  terror  ;  he  felt 
his  nose,  it  was  full  two  hands  long  and  thick  in 
proportion.  So  then  the  old  hag  had  likewise 
changed  his  person  ;  and  hence  it  was  his  mother 


NOSE,   THE  DWARF.  239 

did  not  know  him,  and  people  called  him  an  ill-fa 
vored  dwarf. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  half  crying  to  the  cobbler, 
"  have  you  no  looking-glass  at  hand  in  which  I  might 
behold  myself?" 

"  Young  gentleman,"  replied  his  father,  gravely, 
"you  have  not  exactly  been  favored  as  to  appearance 
so  as  to  make  you  vain,  and  you  have  no  cause  to 
look  often  in  the  glass.  You  had  better  leave  it  off 
altogether.  It  is  with  you  a  particularly  ridiculous 
habit." 

"  Oh  !  pray  let  me  look  in  the  glass,"  cried  the 
dwarf.  "  I  assure  you  it  is  not  from  vanity." 

"  Leave  me  in  peace,  I  have  none  in  my  posses 
sion  ;  my  wife  has  a  little  looking-glass,  but  I  do  not 
know  where  she  has  hid  it.  If  you  really  must  look 
into  one, — why  then,  over  the  way  lives  Urban,  the 
barber,  who  has  a  glass  twice  as  big  as  your  head  ; 
look  in  there,  and  now,  good  morning." 

With  these  words  his  father  pushed  him  gently 
out  of  the  stall,  locked  the  door  after  him,  and  sat 
down  again  to  his  work.  The  little  dwarf,  much  cast 
down,  went  over  the  way  to  the  barber,  whom  he  well 
remembered  in  former  times. 

"  Good  morning,  Urban,"  said  he  to  him, "  I  come 
to  beg  a  favor  of  you,  be  so  kind  as  to  let  me  look 
a  moment  in  your  looking-glass." 

"  With  pleasure,"  cried  the  barber,  laughing, 
"  there  it  is ;  "  and  his  customers  who  were  about  to 


240  THE  TOKEN. 

be  shaved  laughed  heartily  with  him.  "  You  are 
rather  a  pretty  fellow,  slim  and  genteel ;  you  have  a 
neck  like  a  swan,  hands  like  a  queen,  and  a  turn-up 
nose,  such  as  one  seldom  sees  excelled.  A  little  vain 
you  are  of  it,  no  doubt ;  but  no  matter,  look  at  your 
self,  people  shall  not  say  that  envy  prevented  me  from 
allowing  you  to  see  yourself  in  my  glass." 

Thus  spoke  the  barber,  and  a  yell  of  laughter  re 
sounded  through  the  room.  In  the  meantime  the 
dwarf  had  steped  to  the  glass  and  looked  at  himself. 
The  tears  came  in  his  eyes,  while  saying  to  himself: 
"  Yes,  dear  mother,  thus  you  could  not  indeed  recog 
nise  your  James,  he  did  not  look  like  this  in  the  days 
of  your  happiness,  when  you  delighted  to  show  him 
off  before  the  people  ?  "  His  eyes  had  become  little, 
like  those  of  a  pig ;  his  nose  was  immense,  hanging 
over  his  mouth  down  to  his  chin  ;  his  neck  seemed 
to  have  been  taken  away  altogether,  for  his  head  sat 
low  between  his  shoulders,  and  it  was  only  with  the 
greatest  pain  that  he  could  move  it  to  the  right  or 
left  ;  his  body  was  still  the  same  size  as  it  had  been 
seven  years  ago,  when  he  was  twelve  years  old,  so 
that  he  had  grown  in  width  what  others  do  in  height, 
between  the  ages  of  twelve  and  twenty.  His  back 
and  chest  stood  out  like  two  short,  well-filled  bags  ; 
and  this  thick-set  body  was  supported  by  small  thin 
legs,  which  seemed  hardly  sufficient  to  support  their 
burden  :  but  so  much  the  larger  were  his  arms,  which 
hung  down  from  his  body,  being  of  the  size  of  those 


241 


of  a  full-grown  man  ;  his  hands  were  coarse,  and  of 
a  brownish  hue,  his  fingers  long,  like  spiders'  legs, 
and  when  he  stretched  them  to  their  full  extent,  he 
could  touch  the  ground  without  stooping.  Such  was 
little  James's  appearance,  now  that  he  had  become  an 
ugly  dwarf.  He  now  remembered  the  morning  on 
which  the  old  woman  had  stopped  before  his  mother's 
baskets.  All  that  he  then  had  found  fault  with  ir 
her — viz.,  her  long  nose,  and  ugly  fingers — all  these 
she  had  given  him,  only  omitting  her  long,  palsied 
neck. 

"  Well,  my  prince,  have  you  looked  enough  at 
yourself  now  ?  "  said  the  barber,  stepping  up  to  him, 
and  surveying  him  with  a  laugh.  "  Truly,  if  we 
wished  to  dream  of  such  a  figure,  we  could  hardly  see 
one  so  comical.  Nevertheless,  I  will  make  you  a  pro 
position,  my  little  man.  My  shaving-room  is  tolera 
bly  well  frequented,  but  yet  not  so  much  so  as  I  could 
wish.  That  arises  from  my  neighbor,  the  barber 
Schaum,  having  discovered  a  giant,  who  attracts 
much  custom  to  his  house-  Now,  to  become  a  giant 
is  no  great  thing  after  all,  but  to  be  such  a  little  man 
as  you,  is  indeed  a  different  thing.  Enter  my  ser 
vice,  little  man,  you  shall  have  board  and  lodging, 
clothes  and  every  thing ;  for  this  you  shall  stand  in 
my  door-way  in  the  morning,  and  invite  people  to 
come  in  ;  you  shall  beat  up  the  lather,  hand  the 
towel  to  the  customers,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  we 
shall  both  make  it  answer  ;  I  shall  get  more  customers 


242  THE    TOKEN. 

through  you  than  my  neighbor  by  his  giant ;  and 
you  will  get  many  presents." 

The  little  man  felt  quite  indignant  at  the  propo 
sal  of  serving  as  a  decoy  to  a  barber.  But  was  he 
not  obliged  to  submit  patiently  to  this  insulting  offer  ? 
He,  therefore,  quietly  told  the  barber  he  had  no  time 
for  such  services,  and  went  away. 

Although  the  evil  hag  had  thus  stunted  his 
growth,  yet  she  had  had  no  power  to  affect  his  mind,  as 
he  felt  full  well  :  for  he  no  longer  thought  and  felt  as 
he  did  seven  years  since,  and  believed  that  he  had  be 
come  wiser  and  more  sensible  in  the  interval.  He  did 
not  mourn  for  the  loss  of  his  beauty,  nor  for  his  ugly 
appearance,  but  only  that  he  was  driven  from  his  fa 
ther's  door  like  a  dog.  However,  he  resolved  to  make 
another  trial  with  his  mother. 

He  went  again  to  her  in  the  market,  and  entreat 
ed  her  to  listen  to  him  patiently.  He  reminded  her 
of  the  day  on  which  he  had  gone  with  the  old  woman  ; 
he  called  to  her  mind  all  the  particular  incidents  of  his 
childhood,  told  her  then  how  he  had  served  seven  years 
as  a  squirrel  with  the  fairy,  and  how  she  had  changed 
him  because  he  had  then  ridiculed  her  person. 

The  cobbler's  wife  did  not  know  what  to  think  of 
all  this.  All  that  he  related  of  his  childhood  agreed 
with  her  own  recollections,  but  when  he  talked  of 
serving  seven  years  as  a  squirrel,  she  said,  "  It  is  im 
possible  ;  there  are  no  fairies  ; "  and  when  she  looked 
at  him  she  felt  a  horror  at  the  ugly  dwarf,  and  would 


NOSE,    THE   DWAKF.  243 

not  believe  that  he  could  be  her  son.  At  length  she 
thought  it  would  be  best  to  talk  the  matter  over  with 
her  husband  ;  therefore  she  took  up  her  baskets  and 
bade  him  go  with  her. 

On  arriving  at  the  cobbler's  stall  she  said  :  "  Look, 
this  fellow  pretends  to  be  our  lost  James.  He  has 
told  me  all  the  circumstances,  how  he  was  stolen 
from  us  seven  years  since,  and  how  he  was  enchant 
ed  by  a  fairy." 

"  Indeed/'  interrupted  the  cobbler  in  a  rage,  "  has 
he  told  you  this  ?  wait,  you  rogue  ! — I  have  told  him 
all  this  an  hour  ago,  and  then  he  goes  to  make  a  fool 
of  you.  Enchanted  you  have  been,  my  little  chap, 
have  you  ?  Wait  a  bit,  I  will  soon  disenchant  you  ! " 
So  saying  he  took  a  bundle  of  straps  that  he  had  just 
cut,  jumped  up  towards  the  dwarf,  and  beat  him  on 
his  humped  back  and  his  long  arms,  making  the 
little  fellow  scream  with  pain  and  run  crying  away. 

Now  in  that  town,  as  in  others,  there  were  but  few 
of  those  compassionate  souls  who  will  support  a  poor 
unfortunate  with  a  ridiculous  appearance.  Hence 
it  was  that  the  unlucky  dwarf  remained  all  day  with 
out  food,  and  was  obliged  in  the  evening  to  choose 
for  his  night's  quarters  the  steps  of  a  church,  though 
they  were  hard  and  cold. 

When  on  the  following  morning  the  first  rays  of 
the  sun  awoke  him,  he  began  seriously  to  think  how 
he  should  prolong  his  existence,  now  that  his  father 
and  mother  had  rejected  him  ;  he  was  too  proud  to 


244  THE    TOKEN. 

serve  as  a  sign-board  to  a  barber  ;  he  would  not  hire 
himself  as  a  merry-andrew  to  be  exhibited  ;  what 
then  should  he  do  ?  It  now  occurred  to  him  that  as 
a  squirrel  he  had  made  considerable  progress  in  the 
culinary  art,  and  thought  he  might  justly  expect  to 
prove  a  match  for  any  cook  ;  he  therefore  resolved  to 
turn  his  art  to  advantage. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  morning  had  dawned, 
and  the  streets  became  animated,  he  entered  a  church 
and  performed  his  devotions  ;  thence  he  proceeded 
on  his  way.  The  duke  (the  sovereign  of  the  country) 
was  a  notorious  gourmand,  who  kept  a  good  table, 
and  sought  cooks  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  To  his 
palace  the  dwarf  went.  When  he  arrived  at  the 
outer  gate  the  porter  asked  his  errand,  and  began  to 
crack  his  jokes  on  him  ;  when  he  asked  for  the  chief 
cook  they  laughed  and  led  him  through  the  inner 
courts,  and  wherever  he  went  the  servants  stood  still, . 
looked  at  him,  laughed,  heartily,  and  followed  him, 
so  that  in  a  short  time  a  great  posse  of  menials  of  all 
descriptions  crowded  up  the  steps  of  the  palace.  The 
grooms  threw  away  their  curry-combs,  the  running 
footmen  ran  with  all  their  might,  the  carpet-spreaders 
ceased  beating  their  carpets,  all  crowded  and  thronged 
around  him,  as  if  the  enemy  was  at  the  gates,  and 
the  shouts  of  "  A  dwarf,  a  dwarf  !  have  you  seen  the 
dwarf  ?  "  filled  the  air. 

At  this  moment  the  steward  of  the  palace,  with 
a  furious  countenance,  and  a  large  whip  in  his  hand, 


245 

made  his  appearance  at  the  door,  crying,  "  For  Hea 
ven's  sake,  ye  hounds,  what  is  all  this  uproar  for  ? 
Do  you  not  know  that  our  gracious  master  is  still 
asleep  ?  "  At  the  same  time  he  flourished  his  whip, 
laying  it  rather  roughly  about  the  backs  of  some 
grooms  and  porters. 

"  Why,  sir,"  they  all  cried,  "  don't  you  see  that 
we  are  bringing  a  dwarf,  such  a  dwarf  as  you  never 
saw  ?  "  The  steward  suppressed,  though  with  diffi 
culty,  a  loud  laugh,  when  he  got  sight  of  the  little 
man,  for  he  was  afraid  that  laughter  would  derogate 
from  his  dignity.  He  therefore  drove  them  all  away 
with  his  whip  except  the  dwarf,  whom  he  led  into 
the  house  and  asked  what  he  wanted.  Hearing  that 
the  little  man  wished  to  see  the  master  of  the 
kitchen,  he  replied,  u  You  make  a  mistake,  my  little 
son  ;  I  suppose  you  want  to  see  me,  the  steward  of 
the  palace,  do  you  not  ?  You  wish  to  become  dwarf 
to  the  duke,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  dwarf ;  "  I  am  a  clever 
cook,  and  skilled  in  the  preparation  of  all  sorts  of 
choice  meats  ;  be  so  kind  as  to  bring  me  to  the  mas 
ter  of  the  kitchen,  perhaps  he  may  be  in  want  of  my 
skill." 

"  Every  one  according  to  his  wish,  my  little  man  ; 
but  you  are  an  inconsiderate  youth.  To  the  kitchen  ! 
why,  as  the  duke's  dwarf,  you  would  have  nothing  to 
do,  and  plenty  to  eat  and  drink  to  your  heart's  desire, 
and  fine  clothes  into  the  bargain.  But  we  shall  see  ; 


246  THE    TOKEN. 

your  skill  in  the  culinary  art  will  hardly  be  such  as 
a  cook  to  the  duke  is  required  to  possess,  and  you 
are  too  good  for  a  scullion."  As  he  aid  the  last 
words,  he  took  the  dwarf  by  the  hand  and  conducted 
him  to  the  apartments  of  the  master  of  the  kitchen. 

On  arriving  there  the  dwarf  said,  with  so  deep  a 
bow  that  his  nose  touched  the  floor,  "  Gracious  sir, 
are  you  in  want  of  a  skilful  cook  ?  " 

The  master  of  the  kitchen,  surveying  him  from 
top  to  toe,  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter,  and  said, 
"  What,  you  a  cook  ?  Do  you  think  that  our  hearths 
are  so  low  that  you  could  even  look  on  one,  though 
you  should  stand  on  tiptoe,  and  stretch  your  head 
ever  so  much  out  of  your  shoulders  ?  My  good  little 
fellow,  whoever  sent  you  here  to  hire  yourself  as  a 
cook,  has  been  making  a  fool  of  you/'  Thus  saying, 
the  master  cook  laughed  heartily,  and  was  joined  by 
the  steward  of  the  palace  and  all  the  servants  in  the 
room. 

But  the  dwarf  was  not  to  be  discomposed  by  this. 
"  Of  what  consequence  is  it  to  waste  a  few  eggs, 
a  little  syrup  and  wine,  some  flour  and  spice,  upon 
trial,  in  a  house  where  there  are  plenty  ?  Give  me 
some  dainty  dish  to  prepare,"  said  he,  "  procure  all 
that  is  necessary  for  it,  and  it  shall  be  immediately 
prepared  before  your  eyes,  so  that  you  shall  be  con 
strained  to  avow  that  I  am  a  first-rale  cook." 

While  the  dwarf  was  saying  all  this,  and  many 
others  things,  it  was  strange  to  see  how  his  little  eyes 


NOSE,   THE   DWAKF.  247 

sparkled,  how  his  long  nose  moved  to  and  fro,  and 
his  fingers,  which  were  like  spiders'  legs,  suited  their 
movements  to  his  words. 

"  Well  !  "  exclaimed  the  master  cook,  taking  the 
steward  by  the  arm,  "  well !  be  it  so  for  the  sake  of 
the  joke  ;  let  us  go  to  the  kitchen." 

They  walked  through  several  large  rooms  and  cor 
ridors  till  they  came  to  the  kitchen.  This  was  a  large 
spacious  building,  magnificently  fitted  up  ;  on  twenty 
hearths  fires  were  constantly  burning,  clear  water 
was  flowing  through  the  midst,  serving  also  as  a  fish 
pond  ;  in  cupboards  of  marble  and  choice  wood,  the 
stores  were  piled,  which  it  was  necessary  to  have  at 
hand  for  use,  and  on  either  side  were  ten  rooms,  in 
which  were  kept  all  the  delicious  dainties  for  the 
palate,  which  can  be  obtained  in  all  the  countries  of 
Europe  or  even  the  East.  Servants  of  all  descriptions 
were  running  to  and  fro,  handling  and  rattling  ket 
tles  and  pans,  with  forks  and  ladles  ;  but  when  the 
master  cook  entered,  all  stood  motionless,  and  the 
crackling  of  the  fire,  and  the  rippling  of  the  brook 
were  alone  to  be  heard. 

"  What  has  the  duke  ordered  for  breakfast  this 
morning  ?  "  he  asked  an  old  cook,  who  always  pre 
pared  the  breakfast. 

"  Sir,  his  highness  has  pleased  to  order  the  Dan 
ish  soup,  with  the  small  red  Hamburg  dumplings." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  master  cook,  "  did  you 
hear  what  the  duke  wishes  to  eat  ?  Are  you  bold 


248  THE    TOKEN. 

enough  to  attempt  this  difficult  dish  ?  At  all  events 
the  dumplings  you  will  not  be  able  to  make,  that  is 
quite  a  secret." 

"  Nothing  easier  than  that,"  replied  the  dwarf,  to 
their  astonishment,  for  he  had  often  made  this  dish 
when  he  was  a  squirrel.  "  Nothing  easier  ;  only 
give  me  the  herbs,  the  spices,  fat  of  a  wild  boar, 
roots  and  eggs  for  the  soup ;  but  for  the  dumplings," 
said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  so  that  only  the  master 
cook  and  the  breakfast-maker  could  hear,  "for  the 
dumplings  I  want  various  meats,  wine,  duck's  fat, 
ginger,  and  the  herb  called  the  stomach  comforter." 

"  Ah,  by  St.  Benedict,  to  what  enchanter  have 
you  been  apprenticed  ?  "  cried  the  cook  in  astonish 
ment.  "  You  have  hit  all  to  a  hair,  and  as  to  the 
noted  herb,  we  did  not  know  of  that  ourselves  ;  yes  ! 
that  must  make  the  dish  still  more  delicious.  Oh  ! 
you  miracle  of  a  cook  ! " 

"I  should  never  have  thought  this,"  said  the 
master  cook,  "  but  let  us  make  the  trial,  give  him  all 
he  asks,  and  let  him  prepare  the  breakfast." 

His  orders  were  obeyed,  and  the  necessary  pre 
parations  were  made  on  the  hearth ;  but  they  now 
found  that  the  dwarf  could  not  reach  it.  They, 
therefore,  put  two  chairs  together,  laid  a  slab  of  mar 
ble  on  them,  and  asked  the  little  wonder  to  step  up 
and  begin  his  skill.  In  a  large  circle  stood  the 
cooks,  scullions,  servants,  and  others,  looking  at  him 
in  amazement,  to  see  how  readily  and  quickly  he 


NOSE,    THE    DWARF.  249 

proceeded,  and  how  cleanly  and  neatly  he  prepared 
every  thing.  When  he  had  finished,  he  ordered 
both  dishes  to  be  put  to  the  fire,  and  to  be  boiled 
until  he  should  call  out ;  then  he  began  to  count 
one,  two,  three,  and  so  on  up  to  five  hundred,  when 
he  cried  out,  "  Stop,  take  them  off,"  and  then  in 
vited  the  head  cook  to  taste  them. 

The  taster  ordered  the  scullion  to  bring  him  a 
gold  spoon,  which  he  first  rinsed  in  the  brook,  and 
then  gave  it  to  the  head  cook.  The  latter,  stepping 
up  to  the  hearth  with  a  grave  mien,  took  a  spoonful, 
tasted  it,  and  shutting  his  eyes,  smacked  his  lips 
with  delight,  saying,  "  Delicious  !  by  the  duke's  life, 
delicious  !  Would  you  not  like  to  taste  a  spoonful, 
Mr.  Steward  ?  "  The  latter  bowing,  took  the  spoon, 
tasted  it,  and  was  beside  himself  with  delight. 

"  With  all  due  respect  to  your  skill,  dear  break 
fast-maker,  you  aged  and  experienced  cook,  you 
have  never  been  able  to  make  the  soup  or  dump 
lings  so  delicious." 

The  cook  also  tasted  it,  shook  the  dwarf  reve 
rentially  by  the  hand,  saying,  "  My  little  man,  you 
are  a  master  of  your  art,  yes,  that  herb,  '  stomach 
comforter/  imparts  a  peculiar  charm  to  the  whole." 

At  this  moment  the  duke's  valet  entered  the 
kitchen,  and  informed  them  that  the  duke  wished 
his  breakfast.  The  preparations  were  now  dished 
up  in  silver,  and  sent  up  to  the  duke  ;  but  the 
head  cook  took  the  dwarf  to  his  own  room  to  con- 
12 


250  THE  TOKEN. 

verse  with  him.  They  had  scarcely  sat  down  long 
enough  to  say  half  a  paternoster,  when  a  messenger 
came  and  called  the  head  cook  to  the  duke.  He 
quickly  put  on  his  best  clothes,  and  followed  the 
messenger. 

The  duke  looked  well  pleased.  He  had  eaten 
all  they  had  served,  and  was  just  wiping  his  beard 
as  the  master-cook  entered.  Master/'  said  he,  "  I 
have  hitherto  always  been  well  satisfied  with  your 
cooks  ;  but  tell  me  who  prepared  the  breakfast  this 
morning  ?  It  never  was  so  delicious  since  I  sat  on 
the  throne  of  my  fathers  ;  tell  me  the  name  of  the 
cook,  that  I  may  send  him  a  ducat  as  a  present," 

"  My  lord,  this  is  a  strange  story,"  replied  the 
master ;  and  he  told  the  duke  that  a  dwarf  had 
been  brought  to  him  that  morning,  who  earnestly 
solicited  the  place  of  a  cook,  and  how  all  had  hap 
pened.  The  duke  was  greatly  astonished,  ordered 
the  dwarf  to  appear,  and  asked  him  who  he  was,  and 
whence  he  came.  Now  poor  James  did  not  exactly 
wish  to  say  that  he  had  been  enchanted,  and  had 
served  as  a  squirrel.  But  yet  he  adhered  to  truth, 
telling  him  that  he  now  had  neither  father  nor 
mother,  and  had  learned  cooking  of  an  old  woman. 
Much  amused  by  the  strange  appearance  of  his  new 
cook,  the  duke  asked  no  more  questions,  but  said, 
"  If  you  wish  to  remain  here,  I  will  give  you  fifty 
ducats  a  year,  a  suit  of  livery,  and  two  pair  of 
breeches  beside.  Your  duty  shall  be  to  prepare  my 


251 


breakfast ;  yourself  every  day  to  give  directions  how 
the  dinner  shall  be  prepared,  and  to  take  the  gen 
eral  superintendence  of  the  cooking.  As  each  in  my 
palace  has  his  proper  name,  you  shall  be  called 
£  Nose/  and  hold  the  office  of  sub-master-cook/' 

The  dwarf  prostrated  himself  before  the  mighty 
duke,  kissed  his  feet,  and  promised  to  serve  him 
faithfully. 

Thus  the  dwarf  was  for  the  present  provided  for, 
and  did  honor  to  his  office.  And  it  must  be  re 
marked  that  the  duke  had  become  quite  an  altered 
man  since  Nose  the  dwarf  had  been  in  the  palace. 
Formerly,  he  had  often  been  pleased  to  throw  the 
dishes  and  plates  that  were  served  up  at  the  heads 
of  the  cooks  ;  indeed,  he  even  once,  in  a  fit  of  rage, 
threw  a  fried  calf's  foot  that  was  not  sufficiently 
tender,  with  such  violence  at  the  head  of  the  master- 
cook,  that  the  latter  fell  to  the  ground,  and  was 
compelled  for  three  days  to  keep  his  bed.  'Tis  true, 
the  duke  made  him  amends  for  what  he  had  done 
by  some  handfuls  of  ducats,  but  still  no  cook  ever 
came  before  him  with  his  dishes,  without  trembling 
and  terror. 

Ever  since  the  dwarf  had  been  in  the  palace,  all 
seemed  to  be  changed,  as  if  by  magic.  The  duke, 
instead  of  three,  had  now  five  meals  a  day,  in  order 
to  relish  properly  the  skill  of  his  little  servant,  and 
yet  never  showed  the  least  sign  of  discontent.  In- 


252  THE  TOKEN. 

deed,  he  found  all  new  and  excellent,  was  kind  and 
pleasant,  and  became  fatter  daily. 

He  would  often  in  the  midst  of  a  meal  send  for 
the  master-cook  and  the  dwarf,  set  one  on  his  right, 
and  the  other  on  the  left  hand,  and  put  with  his 
own  gracious  fingers  some  morsels  of  the  delicious 
viands  into  their  mouths  ;  a  favor  which  both  knew 
how  to  appreciate  fully.  The  dwarf  was  the  wonder 
of  the  whole  town,  and  people  requested  the  permis 
sion  of  the  master-cook  to  see  him  cook,  while  some 
of  the  principal  folks  prevailed  upon  the  duke  to 
permit  their  servants  to  profit  by  the  instructions  of 
the  dwarf  in  his  kitchen,  by  which  he  obtained 
much  money,  for  those  who  came  to  learn  paid  daily 
half  a  ducat.  In  order,  however,  to  keep  the  other 
cooks  in  good  humor,  and  prevent  jealousy,  Nose 
let  them  have  the  money  that  was  paid  by  the  mas 
ters  for  instruction. 

Thus  Nose  lived  almost  two  years  in  great  com 
fort  and  honor,  the  thought  of  his  parents  alone 
saddening  him,  and  nothing  remarkable  occurring 
until  the  following  circumstance  happened.  The 
dwarf  being  particularly  clever,  and  fortunate  in  his 
purchases,  went  himself,  as  often  as  time  permitted, 
to  the  market,  to  buy  poultry  and  fruit.  One 
morning  he  went  to  the  poultry  market,  and  walk 
ing  up  and  down  inquired  for  fat  geese  such  as  his 
master  liked.  His  appearance,  far  from  creating 
laughter  and  ridicule,  commanded  respect,  since  he 


NOSE,   THE   DWARF.  253 

was  known  as  the  duke's  celebrated  cook,  and  each 
poultry-woman  felt  herself  happy  if  he  but  turned 
his  nose  to  her.  At  length  coming  to  the  end  of  a 
row  of  stalls,  he  perceived  in  a  corner,  a  woman 
with  geese  for  sale,  who  did  not,  like  the  others, 
praise  her  goods,  nor  call  to  the  customers. 

He  stepped  up  to  her,  examined  the  geese, 
weighed  them  in  his  hand,  and  finding  them  to  his 
liking,  bought  three,  with  the  cage  they  were  in,  put 
them  on  his  shoulders  and  trotted  home.  It  ap 
peared  singular  to  him  that  only  two  of  the  geese 
cackled  and  cried  like  others,  the  third  being  quite 
quiet  and  thoughtful,  and  occasionally  groaning  and 
moaning  like  a  human  being. 

"  She  is  not  well/'  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  must 
hasten  to  get  home  and  dress  her."  But  the  goose 
replied  distinctly, 

"  If  thou  stick'st  me,  .  i: 

Why  111  bite  thee, 
And  if  my  neck  thou  twistest  round, 
Thou  soon  wilt  lie  below  the  ground." 

Quite  startled,  the  dwarf  put  down  the  basket, 
and  the  goose,  looking  at  him  with  her  fine  intelli 
gent  eyes,  sighed.  "  Why  what  have  we  here  ?  " 
cried  Nose.  u  You  can  talk,  Miss  Goose.  I  never 
expected  that.  Well,  make  yourself  easy  :  I  know 
the  world  and  will  not  harm  so  rare  a  bird.  But  I 
would  wager  something  that  you  have  not  always 


254  THE    TOKEN. 

been  covered  with  feathers.  Indeed  I  was  once  a 
poor  squirrel  myself." 

"  You  are  right/'  replied  the  goose,  "  in  saying 
I  was  not  born  with  this  disgraceful  disguise.  Alas  ! 
it  was  never  sung  at  my  cradle  that  Mimi,  the  great 
Wetterbock's  daughter,  would  be  killed  in  the  kitch 
en  of  a  duke/' 

"  Pray  be  easy,  dear  Miss  Mimi,"  said  the  dwarf, 
comforting  her,  "for  as  sure  as  I  am  an  honest  fel 
low,  and  sub-master-cook  to  his  highness,  no  one 
shall  touch  your  throat.  I  will  give  you  a  stall  in 
my  own  apartments,  you  shall  have  enough  food, 
and  I  will  devote  my  leisure  time  to  converse  with 
you.  Til  tell  the  others  in  the  kitchen  that  I  ana 
fattening  a  goose  with  various  herbs  for  the  duke, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity  you  shall  be  set  at 
liberty." 

The  goose  thanked  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
and  the  dwarf,  as  he  had  promised,  killed  the  other 
two  geese,  but  built  a  stall  for  Mimi,  under  the  pre 
tence  of  preserving  her  for  some  special  occasion. 
Instead  of  feeding  her  on  grain  he  gave  her  pasty 
and  sweetmeats.  As  often  as  he  had  time  he  went 
to  converse  with  her  and  comfort  her.  They  related 
their  histories  to  each  other,  and  Nose  learnt  that 
she  was  the  daughter  of  the  enchanter,  Wetterbock, 
who  lived  in  the  island  of  Gothland.  Being  involv 
ed  in  a  quarrel  with  an  old  fairy,  her  father  had 
been  conquered  by  stratagems  and  cunning,  and  out 


NOSE,   THE   DWARF.  255 

of  revenge  the  fairy  had  changed  her  into  a  goose,  and 
brought  her  to  the  town. 

When  the  dwarf  told  his  history,  she  said,  "  I 
am  not  inexperienced  in  these  matters,  my  father  hav 
ing  given  me  and  my  sisters  what  instruction  he  was 
allowed  to  impart.  The  story  of  the  dispute  at 
your  mother's  fruit  stall,  your  sudden  metamorpho 
sis,  when  you  smelled  the  herb,  as  well  as  the  words 
the  old  woman  Used,  show  me  that  you  are  enchant 
ed  through  herbs  ;  that  is  to  say,  if  you  can  find  out 
the  herb  of  which  the  fairy  thought  when  she  be 
witched  you,  you  may  be  disenchanted/*  This  was 
but  poor  consolation  for  the  dwarf,  for  how  should 
he  find  the  herb  ?  Yet  he  thanked  her  and  felt  some 
hope. 

About  this  time  the  duke  had  a  visit  from  a 
neighboring  prince,  his  friend.  He,  therefore,  order 
ed  the  dwarf  to  appear,  and  said,  "  Now  is  the  time 
for  you  to  show  whether  you  serve  me  faithfully  and 
are  master  of  your  art.  The  prince,  who  is  now 
visiting  me,  keeps,  as  is  well  known,  the  best  table 
after  me.  He  is  a  great  connoisseur  in  good  living, 
and  a  wise  man.  Let  it  now  be  your  care  to  supply 
my  table  every  day  so  that  his  astonishment  shall 
daily  become  greater.  But  you  must  not,  under 
pain  of  my  displeasure,  repeat  the  same  dish  during 
his  visits.  You  may  ask  of  my  treasurer  all  you 
want,  and  should  it  be  needful  to  fry  gold  and  dia- 


256  THE   TOKEN. 

monds,  you  must  do  it.    I  would  rather  become  poor 
than  forfeit  his  good  opinion  of  my  taste/' 

When  the  duke  had  concluded,  the  dwarf  bow 
ed  most  respectfully,  saying,  "  Be  it  as  you  say,  my 
lord  ;  please  God  I  shall  do  all  to  gratify  the  palate 
of  this  prince  of  gourmands." 

The  little  cook  now  mustered  all  his  skill.  He 
did  not  spare  his  master's  treasures,  and  still  less 
did  he  spare  himself.  He  was  seen  all  day  at  the 
fire,  enveloped  by  clouds  of  smoke,  and  his  voice 
constantly  resounded  through  the  vaults  of  the 
kitchen,  for  he  governed  the  scullions  and  under 
cooks. 

During  a  fortnight  the  foreign  prince  lived  hap 
pily,  and  feasted  sumptuously  with  the  duke.  They 
ate  not  less  than  five  times  a  day,  and  the  duke  was 
delighted  with  his  dwarf,  seeing  satisfaction  express 
ed  on  the  countenance  of  his  guest.  But  on  the 
fifteenth  day  it  happened,  that  the  duke,  while  at 
table,  sent  for  the  dwarf,  presented  him  to  his 
guest,  and  asked  how  he  was  satisfied  with  his 
cooking  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  cook,"  replied  the  prince, 
"  and  know  what  good  living  is.  All  the  time  I 
nave  been  here  you  have  not  repeated  a  single  dish, 
and  have  prepared  every  thing  exquisitely.  But 
pray  tell  me,  why  have  you  not  all  this  time  prepared 
that  queen  of  dishes,  the  pie  called  '  souzeraine  ?  " 
The  dwarf  was  startled  at  this  question,  for  he 


NOSE,   THE   DWARF.  257 

had  never  heard  of  this  queen  of  pies  ;  however  he 
recovered  himself  and  replied,  "  My  lord,  I  was  in 
hopes  that  your  serene  countenance  would  shine 
some  time  yet  on  this  court,  therefore  I  deferred  this 
dish  ;  for  with  what  dish  but  the  queen  of  pies  should 
the  cook  honor  the  day  of  your  departure  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  the  duke,  laughing  ;  "  I  suppose 
then  you  wish  to  wait  for  the  day  of  my  death  to 
honor  me,  for  you  have  never  yet  sent  it  up  to  me. 
But  think  of  another  dish  to  celebrate  the  departure, 
for  to-morrow  that  pie  must  be  on  the  table." 

"  Your  pleasure  shall  be  done,  my  lord,"  replied 
the  dwarf,  and  retired.  But  he  went  away  uneasy, 
for  the  day  of  his  disgrace  and  misfortune  had  come. 
He  did  not  know  how  to  prepare  this  pie.  He  went 
therefore  to  his  chamber,  and  wept  over  his  fate, 
when  the  goose  Mimi,  who  was  allowed  to  walk 
about,  came  up  and  inquired  the  cause  of  his  grief. 
When  she  heard  of  the  pie,  "  Dry  your  tears,"  said 
she,  "  this  dish  came  often  to  my  father's  table,  and 
I  know  pretty  well  what  is  necessary  for  it  ;  you 
have  only  to  take  such  and  such  things  in  certain 
quantities,  and  should  these  not  be  all  that  are  really 
necessary,  I  trust  that  the  taste  of  these  gentlemen 
is  not  sufficiently  refined  to  discover  the  deficiency." 

At  these  words  the  dwarf  danced  with  joy,  blessed 

the  day  on  which  he  had  purchased  the  goose,  and 

set  about  making  this  queen  of  pies.     He  first  made 

a  trial  in  miniature,  and  lo  !   the  flavor  was  ex- 

12* 


258  THE  TOKEN. 

quisite,  and  the  master-cook,  to  whom  he  gave  the 
small  pie  to  taste,  praised  once  more  his  great  skill. 
The  following  day  he  prepared  the  pie  on  a  larger 
scale,  and,  after  having  garnished  it  with  flowers, 
sent  it  hot  as  it  came  from  the  oven  to  table.  After 
which  he  dressed  in  his  best  and  went  to  the  dinin^- 

o 

hall.  On  entering,  he  found  the  steward  engaged  in 
carving  the  pie,  and  presenting  it  on  silver  dishes  to 
the  duke  and  his  guest.  The  duke  swallowed  a 
large  piece,  turned  his  eyes  upward,  saying,  "  Ha  ! 
ha  !  ha  !  justly  is  this  called  the  queen  of  pies  ;  but 
my  dwarf  is  also  a  king  of  cooks.  Is  it  not  so,  my 
friend  ?  " 

His  guest  took  a  small  morsel,  tasted  it  carefully, 
and  smiled  somewhat  scornfully  and  mysteriously. 

"  The  thing  is  made  pretty  well/'  replied  he, 
pushing  his  plate  away,  u  but  it  is  not  quite  the 
Souzeraine,  as  I  well  imagined." 

At  this  the  duke  frowned  with  indignation,  and 
turned  red,  saying,  "  You  hound  of  a  dwarf,  how 
dare  you  do  this  to  your  lord  ?  I  will  have  your 
big  head  cut  off  as  a  punishment  for  your  bad  cook- 
ing." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,"  said  the  dwarf  trembling,  "  for 
Heaven's  sake  have  compassion  on  me  ;  I  have  made 
that  dish,  indeed,  according  to  the  proper  receipt, 
and  am  sure  that  nothing  is  wanting." 

"'Tis  a  lie,  you  knave,"  replied  the  duke,  giving 
him  a  kick,  "  'tis  a  lie  ;  else  my  guest  would  not  say 


-NOSE,   THE   DWARF.  259 

there  was  something  wanting.  I  will  have  you 
yourself  cut  up  and  baked  in  a  pie." 

"  Have  compassion  on  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  dwarf, 
shuffling  on  his  knees  up  to  the  prince,  and  clasping 
his  feet ;  "  tell  me  what  is  wanting  to  this  pie  and 
why  it  does  not  suit  your  palate  :  let  me  not  die  for 
a  handful  of  meat  or  flour." 

"  This  will  not  avail  you,  my  good  Nose,"  replied 
the  prince,  laughing  ;  "  even  yesterday  I  thought 
you  would  not  be  able  to  make  this  dish  as  well  as 
my  cook.  Know  there  is  wanting  a  herb  called 
Sneeze-with-pleasure,  which  is  not  even  known  in 
this  country.  Without  it  this  pie  is  insipid,  and 
your  master  will  never  eat  it  in  such  perfection  as  I 
do/' 

At  this  the  duke  flew  into  a  rage,  and  cried  with 
flashing  eyes  : 

"  I  will  eat  it  in  perfection  yet,  for  I  swear  by 
my  princely  honor,  that  by  to-morrow  I  will  either 
have  the  pie  set  before  you,  such  as  you  desire  it,  or 
the  head  of  this  fellow  shall  be  spiked  on  the  gate  of 
my  palace.  Go,  you  hound,  I  give  you  once  more 
twenty-four  hours  ! "  cried  the  duke. 

The  dwarf  again  went  to  his  chamber  and 
mourned  over  his  fate  with  the  goose  that  he  must 
die,  as  he  had  never  heard  of  this  herb.  "If  it  is 
nothing  more,"  said  she,  "  I  can  help  you  out  of  the 
difficulty,  as  my  father  has  taught  me  to  know  all 
herbs.  At  any  other  time  your  death,  no  doubt, 


260  THE   TOKEN. 

would  have  been  certain,  and  it  is  fortunate  for  you 
that  we  have  a  new  moon,  as  the  herb  is  only  then 
in  flower.  Now  tell  me,  are  there  any  old  chestnut 
trees  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  palace  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes/'  replied  Nose,  with  a  lighter  heart, 
"  near  the  lake,  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
palace,  there  is  a  clump  of  them  ;  but  what  of 
them?" 

"  Why/'  said  Mimi,  "  the  herb  only  flowers  at 
the  foot  of  them.  Now  let  us  lose  no  time  but  go 
to  fetch  what  you  want  ;  take  me  on  your  arm, 
and  put  me  down  when  we  get  out,  that  I  may 
search  for  you." 

He  did  as  she  requested,  and  went  towards  the 
gate  of  the  palace,  but  here  the  porter  levelled  his 
gun  and  said  ;  "  My  good  Nose,  it  is  all  over  with 
you,  you  must  not  pass  ;  I  have  strict  orders  re 
specting  you." 

"  But  I  suppose  I  may  go  into  the  garden," 
replied  the  dwarf.  "  Be  so  good  as  to  send  one  of 
your  fellow-servants  to  the  master  of  the  palace,  and 
ask  whether  I  may  not  go  into  the  garden  to  fetch 
herbs.  The  porter  did  so  and  permission  was  given, 
since,  the  garden  having  high  walls,  escape  was  im 
possible.  But  when  Nose  and  Mimi  had  got  out  he 
put  her  carefully  down,  and  she  ran  quickly  before 
him  towards  the  lake,  where  the  chestnuts  were.  He 
followed  with  a  heavy  heart,  since  this  was  his  last 
and  only  hope.  If  she  did  not  find  the  herb  he  was  re- 


NOSE,   THE   DWARF. 

solved  rather  to  plunge  into  the  lake  than  to  have 
his  head  cut  off.  The  goose  searched  in  vain  under 
all  the  chestnut  tree  ;  she  turned  every  herb  with  her 
beak,  but  no  trace  of  the  one  wanted  was  to  be 
found,  and  she  now  began  to  cry  out  of  compassion 
and  fear  for  the  dwarf,  as  the  evening  was  already 
growing  dusk  and  the  objects  around  were  difficult 
to  distinguish. 

At  this  moment  the  dwarf  cast  a  glance  across 
the  lake,  and  cried  suddenly  ;  "  Look,  look,  yonder 
across  the  lake  there  stands  a  large  old  tree  ;  let  us 
go  there  and  search  ;  perhaps  my  luck  may  bloom 
there."  The  goose  hopped  and  flew  before  him,  and 
he  ran  after  her  as  quickly  as  his  short  legs  would 
permit  him  ;  the  chestnut  tree  cast  a  large  shade, 
and  it  was  so  dark  around  that  scarcely  anything 
could  be  distinguished ;  but  suddenly  the  goose 
stopped,  flapped  her  wings  for  joy,  put  her  head 
quickly  into  the  high  grass,  and  plucked  something 
which  she  reached  gracefully  with  her  bill  to  the  aston 
ished  Nose,  saying  ;  "  There  is  the  herb,  and  plenty 
is  growing  here,  so  that  you  will  never  want  for  it." 

The  dwarf  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  herb,  and 
a  sweet  odor  arose  from  it,  which  immediately  re 
minded  him  of  the  scene  of  his  metamorphosis  ;  the 
stalk  and  leaves  were  of  a  bluish  green,  bearing  a 
glowing  red  flower,  with  a  yellow  edge. 

"  God  be  praised  ! "  he  now  exclaimed,  "  What 
a  miracle  !  I  believe  this  is  the  very  herb  that  trans- 


262  THE   TOKEN. 

formed  me  from  a  squirrel  into  this  hideous  form  ; 
shall  I  make  a  trial,  to  see  what  effect  it  will  have  on 
me  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  entreated  the  goose.  "  Take  a  han  d- 
ful  of  this  herb  with  you,  let  us  go  to  your  room  and 
put  up  all  the  money  and  whatever  you  have,  and 
then  we  will  try  the  virtue  of  the  herb/' 

They  did  so,  and  went  again  to  his  room,  the 
dwarf's  heart  beating  audibly  with  anticipation. 
After  having  put  up  about  fifty  or  sixty  ducats  which 
he  had  saved,  he  tied  up  his  clothes  in  bundle,  and 
said  :  "  If  it  please  God,  I  shall  get  rid  of  my  burthen- 
some  deformity/'  He  then  put  his  nose  deep  into 
the  herb  and  inhaled  its  odor. 

Now  his  limbs  began  to  stretch  and  crack,  he  felt 
how  his  head  started  from  his  shoulders,  he  squinted 
down  on  his  nose  and  Saw  it  became  smaller  and 
smaller,  his  back  and  chest  became  straight,  and  his 
legs  longer. 

The  goose  viewed  all  this  with  great  astonishment, 
exclaiming,  "  Ah,  what  a  tall  handsome  fellow  you 
have  now  become.  God  be  praised,  there  is  no  trace 
left  in  you  of  what  you  were  before."  Now  Jamea 
was  highly  rejoiced,  he  folded  his  hands  and  prayed. 
But  his  joy  did  not  make  him  forget  what  he  owed  to 
Mimi  the  goose  ;  his  heart  indeed  urged  him  to  go  to 
his  parents,  yet  from  gratitude  he  overcame  his  wish 
and  said,  "  To  whom  but  to  you  am  I  indebted  that 
I  am  again  restored  to  my  former  self  ?  Without  you 


NOStf,   THE  DWARF.  2t)3 

I  should  never  have  found  this  herb,  but  should  have 
continued  for  ever  in  that  form,  or  else  have  died  under 
the  axe  of  the  executioner.  Well,  I  will  repay  you. 
I  will  bring  you  back  to  your  father  ;  he  being  so  ex 
perienced  in  magic  will  be  able  easily  to  disenchant 
you." 

The  goose  shed  tears  of  joy  and  accepted  his  offer. 
James  fortunately  escaped  unknown  from  the  palace 
with  his  goose,  and  started  on  his  way  for  the  sea- 
coast  towards  Mi  mi's  home, 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  their  journey  was  suc 
cessful,  that  Wetterbock  disenchanted  his  daughter, 
and  dismissed  James  laden  with  presents ;  that  the  lat 
ter  returned  to  his  native  town,  that  his  parents  with 
delight  recognized  in  the  handsome  young  man  their 
lost  son,  that  he,  with  the  presents  he  had  received, 
purchased  a  shop  and  became  wealthy  and  happy. 

Only  this  much  may  be  added,  that  after  his  de 
parture  from  the  duke's  palace,  there  was  a  great 
sensation,  for  when,  on  the  next  morning,  the  duke 
was  about  to  fulfil  his  oath,  and  to  have  the  dwarf  be 
headed  in  case  he  had  not  discovered  the  herbs,  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  found ;  and  the  prince  maintained 
that  the  duke  had  let  him  escape  secretly  rather  than 
lose  his  best  cook,  and  accused  him  of  breaking  his 
word  of  honor.  This  circumstance  gave  rise  to 
a  great  war  between  the  two  princes,  which  is  well 
known  in  history  by  the  name  of  the  "  Herb  War." 
Many  battles  were  fought,  but  at  length  a  peace  was 


264  THE  TOKEN. 

concluded,  which  is  now  called  the  "Pie  Peace," 
because  at  the  festival  of  reconciliation  the  Souze- 
raine,  queen  of  pies,  was  prepared  by  the  prince's 
cook,  and  relished  by  the  duke  in  the  highest  degree. 
Thus  the  most  trifling  causes  often  lead  to  the 
greatest  result  ;  and  this,  reader,  is  the  story  of 
"Nose,  the  dwarf." 


THE    TREASUKE. 

A    SWISS   LEGEND. 
BY  J.   E.   WYSS. 

NEAR  the  ruins  of  the  old  Baronial  castle  of  Waden- 
schwyl,  Petermann,  a  poor  woodcutter,  was  one  day, 
in  the  heat  of  noon,  felling  wood.  About  twelve  or 
fifteen  years  before  the  era  of  this  legend,  that 
venerable  old  mansion  had  fallen  into  the  possession 
of  the  city  of  Zurich.  Till  then  the  massiveness  6* 
the  building  had  preserved  it  from  decay  ;  but  not 
withstanding  its  beautiful  situation  upon  a  hill  be 
hind  the  rich  and  stately  burgh,  and  its  fine  view  of 
the  lake  of  Zurich,  it  was  at  last  half-demolished  to 
make  way  for  a  more  commodious  castle,  and  now 
it  stood  in  dreary  loneliness,  raising  only  one  turret 
to  the  sky  above  the  surrounding  wood. 

The  industrious  Petermann  had  up  to  this  day 
been  as  indifferent  to  the  old  castle  as  the  man  in 
the  moon.  He  had  never  gone  into  it — nay,  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  had  ever  so  much  as  intentionally 
looked  up  to  it  ;  but  as  he  now  chanced  to  be  work 
ing  very  near  it,  and  every  blow  of  his  axe  laid  it 


266  THE   TOKEN, 

more  clearly  open  to  his  view,  a  thought  struck  him , 
while  taking  a  breath  during  his  labor,  and  he 
said  to  himself  with  a  sigh  :  "  Ah  !  if  I  could  get 

^  O 

all  the  silver  and  gold  which  once  glittered  up 
there,  I  might  well  throw  away  my  axe,  and  live 
comfortably  all  the  rest  of  my  days  with  my  wife 
and  children." 

At  this  moment  it  seemed  to  the  simple  rustic 
that  something  moved  in  a  hole  of  the  mossy  wall, 
and  as  he  eyed  it  attentively,  he  overheard  a  low 
whispering  and  rustling  which  appeared  to  come 
from  the  opening :  "  Qdzookfl,"  thought  he,  "  are 
the  gypsies  here  ?  That  would  just  suit  me/'  So 
throwing  aside  his  axe,  he  climbed  up  the  .steep 
acclivity  to  the  foot  of  the  ruins,  where  he  found  a 
small  aperture  through  which  he  could  easily  look 
into  the  interior  of  the  tower.  With  some  trouble, 
he  got  firm  footing  and  applied  his  eye  to  the  hole  ; 
but  good  heavens  I  what  were  the  feelings  of  the 
poor  woodcutter,  on  perceiving  within  the  ruined 
walls, — two  figures — so  tiny,  so  marvellous,  and  so 
enigmatical  in  their  gestures,  that  his  fancy  had 
never  shaped  any  like  them,  when  the  winter- 
evening  tales  of  goblins  and  gnomes  circulated  from 
lip  to  lip  in  his  wife's  spinning  room.* 

*  It  is  the  custom  in  the  Swiss  hamlets,  and  in  some  parts  of 
Germany,  for  the  peasantry  to  spend  the  long  winter-evenings  al 
ternately  in  one  another's  houses.  On  these  occasions,  one  of  their 
number  sings  or  narrates  a  popular  legend,  while  the  rest  diligently 
ply  their  distaff  or  shuttle. 


THE  TREASURE  267 

Petermann  beheld  two  little  dwarfs  in  long 
robes  of  ashen  grey,  with  silver  beards  descending 
to  their  girdle,  talking  aloud,  but  quite  unin 
telligibly,  and  in  a  chirping  tone  as  if  they  spoke 
the  Bird  language,  and  bustling  about  within  the 
four  walls  of  the  ruins,  which  now  reflected  the 
rays  of  noon  almost  like  the  glow  of  an  oven.  One 
of  the  little  men  seemed  to  exercise  some  authority 
over  the  other :  for  he  kept  always  at  the  same 
place,  whilst  the  other  moved  slowly  to  and  fro, 
about  a  kind  of  excavation,  into  which  he  ever  and 
anon  descended  and  reappeared  bearing  upon  his 
shoulders  to  the  light  of  day,  the  most  magnificent 
golden  basins,  silver  cups,  costly  jewels, — in  short, 
all  the  riches  which  were  ever  conceived  of  in  a  fairy 
tale.  Every  piece  was  examined  and  laid  in  order 
as  the  superior  little  figure  seemed  to  direct  ;  and 
then  both  the  dwarfs  stood  and  gazed  upon  the 
spectacle  with  an  expression  of  complacence  quite 
indescribable.  The  whole  seemed  to  be  conducted 
after  the  fashion  of  one  of  those  reviews  which 
thrifty  housewives  occasionally  take  of  their  furni 
ture,  in  which  the  contents  of  dusty  corners,  store 
rooms,  and  attics,  are  carefully  spread  out  for  airing 
before  the  sun. 

Petermann's  heart  felt  now  all  alive  like  a  swarm 
of  ants  ; — feelings  of  the  most  conflicting  kinds 
crossed  and  chased  each  other  by  turns — astonish 
ment,  covetousness,  curiosity,  awe,  and  terror.  A 


268  THE    TOKEN. 

wonder  it  was  that  no  exclamation  escaped  his  lips. 
But  all  at  once  a  soot-black  raven  popped  his  head 
out  of  a  hole,  and  stretching  out  his  long  neck  over 
the  little  dwarfs,  screamed  from  his  hoarse  throat 
three  times — rap — rap — rap,  and  drew  the  looks  of 
the  woodcutter  to  him  with  a  sort  of  spell,  while,  at 
the  same  moment,  a  noise  like  the  shutting  of  a 
door  was  heard,  and  when  Petermann  again  turned 
his  eyes  to  look  on  the  gold  and  silver  vessels, — 
nothing  but  the  barren  stones  met  his  eyes  ;  the 
strange  jewellers,  with  all  the  magnificent  exhibi 
tion,  had  vanished  without  leaving  a  trace. 

"  Oh,  thou  hellish  raven  ! "  at  last  burst  from 
the  lips  of  the  disappointed  peasant  ;  he  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  forehead, — rubbed  his  eyes  ten 
times  over, — stared  again  into  the  empty  turret, — 
and  saw  a  few  little  birds  and  lizards  running  about 
in  it,  but  not  a  vestige  of  the  treasures  which  had  so 
lately  fascinated  his  senses. 

Three  days  Petermann  remained  thoughtful, 
silent,  and  gloomy,  without  any  one  being  able  to 
conjecture  what  strange  mischance  had  befallen 
the  light-hearted  woodsman.  Every  morning  at 
the  earliest  dawn,  and  every  evening  in  the  latest 
twilight,  he  crept  up  to  the  old  castle,  where  he 
clambered  about,  knocking  with  his  pick-axe,  and 
turning  over  stones  and  bushes,  till  he  had  thrown 
himself  quite  into  a  fever  in  his  anxiety  to  discover 


THE   TREASURE.  269 

the  door,  which  he  now  supposed  led  to  the  trea 
sure-chamber  of  the  two  dwarfs. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  which 
had  elapsed  since  his  adventure,  Petermann  was 
seated  upon  a  stone,  on  the  border  of  the  wood 
which  covered  a  great  part  of  the  hill  where  the 
ruins  stood,  plunged  in  deep  reflection  and  melan 
choly  thoughts,  and  hesitating  whether  to  sacrifice 
any  more  of  his  precious  time  in  scrambling  and 
picking  about  the  turret,  when  suddenly  there 
sounded  through  the  stillness  of  the  morning,  a 
clear,  youthful  voice,  which  after  having  hastily 
sung  a  few  verses  at  a  distance,  drew  nearer,  so  that 
the  woodcutter  recognized  the  following  words  : — 

Fortune's  a  bird  too  sly  to  take, 

Cease  then  the  fond  endeavor; 
As  subtle  as  the  wily  snake, 

To-day  as  false  as  ever. 

With  tiny  eggs  she  decks  her  nest, 

Building  where  it  may  please  her ; 
But  ah  !  he  meets  a  bitter  jest, 

The  clown  that  thinks  to  seize  her ! 

Hark  to  her  song  :  "  Come  take  me,  friend  {  " 

But  whoso  will  pursue  it, 
Hot  in  the  chase,  shall  miss  his  end, 

And  ever  after  rue  it 

The  voice  was  that  of  an  errant-scholar,  who,  in  a 
singular  dress,  came  tripping  onward,  rather  beside 
the  path  than  upon  it,  through  the  dewy  grass.  H 


270  TOKEN. 

wore  a  barret-cap  upon  his  head  ;  from  his  shoulders 
floated  a  wide  black  robe,  the  loose  folds  of  which 
— as  formed  above  the  girdle — seemed  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  wallets  ;  the  skirts  of  this  robe  were 
turned  up  and  fastened  to  the  girdle, — his  under- 
dress  was  also  black,  and  formed  a  piece  with  his 
hose  and  shoes,  the  fiery  red  heels  of  which  raised 
the  wearer  almost  three  inches  above  their  points. 

"Ho  now,  good  friend,"  said  the  wanderer  to 
the  woodcutter,  "  why  sit  you  there  breathing  mel 
ancholy  abroad  over  the  merry  world,  from  your 
morning  seat  ?  You  are  just  like  the  dog  upon 
the  heap  of  hay  in  the  fable." 

"  That  I  am,"  replied  the  woodcutter  roughly. 

"  And  that's  being  very  silly,"  answered  the 
scholar.  "There  is  wealth  of  gold  under  you  ;  but 
it  is  just  of  as  much  value  to  you  as  the  head  of  hay 
was  to  the  dog." 

Petermann  gaped  and  stared  on  the  stranger 
at  these  words.  "  An  enchanter, — a  sorcerer, — a 
devil's  conjurer,"  sounded  in  his  ears.  "Hey-day, 
my  heart,"  nevertheless  thought  he,  "this  fellow 
comes  at  a  right  hour." 

"  Yes/'  said  Petermann  aloud,  "  1  know  it— 
what  a  pity  it  is  !  I  know  perfectly  well  what  a 
vast  deal  of  riches  and  jewels  are  beneath  my  feet. 
But  if  I  were  able  to  look  through  the  mountain 
like  your  reverence,  I  would  not  be  sitting  here 


THE   TREASURE.  271 

brooding   in   vain,  if  I    cared  at    all    for   gold   and 
silver." 

"  /,  my  good  friend,"  replied  the  scholar, — "  7, 
for  instance,  don't  care  a  farthing  for  it  ;  and  you 
if  yon  were  wise,  would  care  as  little." 

"  Precious  wisdom  that  !  "  murmured  Petermann. 
t(  No,  I  am  not  so  wise  !  If  I  could  get  at  the 
gold  you  talk  of,  I  would  soon  throw  my  axe  aside. 
Your  reverence  has  probably  never  tried  what  it  is 
to  cut  wood  in  the  forest  for  six  burning  summer- 
days,  with  nothing  to  eat  but  milk  and  bread." 

"  Poh,  what  matters  that,"  answered  the  schol 
ar  ;  "you  are  in  good  health  and  merry  withal; 
that  stands  written  red  as  cherries  upon  your  cheek. 
However,  if  you  wish  to  try  it,  I  can  easily  do  some 
thing  to  give  you  a  sight  of  this  treasure." 

"  If  I  wish  to  try  it  ! "  exclaimed  Petermann. 
"  In  the  name  of  wonder,  certainly  I  do  wish  to  try 
it  !  Set  about  it  instantly  ;  open  me  the  whole 
below,  and  with  three  grasps  I  make  myself  a  rich 
and  happy  man  !  " 

"  Gently,  gently,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  go 
straight  up  even  now  to  the  owlet's  nest  above  us  ; 
and  do  you,  my  impatient  friend,  when  twelve 
o'clock  has  struck,  join  me  there,  when  I  will  see 
what  can  be  done  for  you." 

With  these  words  the  stranger  took  his  way 
gaily  up  the  steep  hill,  leaving  the  woodcutter 
gaping  after  him  with  open  mouth. 


272  THE   TOKEN. 

The  honest  Petermann  had  now  some  strange 
sensations  and  already  felt  himself  very  grand. 
"  Well,"  murmured  he  to  himself,  "I'll  try  to  re 
sume  my  work  for  a  short  time,  that  I  may  in 
future  be  able,  during  my  leisure  and  repose,  to 
figure  to  myself  how  stoutly  I  handled  the  axe  for 
the  Inst  time  \"  and  with  this  he  rose,  whistled  a 
merry  tune,  took  his  axe,  and  cut  away  so  briskly 
that  it  was  quite  a  pleasure  to  behold  him. 

An  hour  before  noon  he  went  home, — eat  his 
dinner  cheerfully  with  his  honest  spouse  Salome, — 
took  a  romp  with  his  three  children, — and  before 
the  expiry  of  an  hour,  was  again  in  the  wood,where 
he  made  his  way  through  thick  and  thin,  without 
heeding  the  regular  path,  till  he  reached  the  old 
castle  and  joined  his  friend  in  the  black  mantle. 

"  I  have  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble/'  said  the 
scholar.  "  Truly,  my  good  friend,  the  treasure- 
keepers  here  below  us  are  obstinate,  cross  fellows  ! 
I  had  hard  enough  work  to  find  the  door."  With 
these  words,  he  pointed  with  a  long  ivory  wand  to 
the  weather- ueateri  wall ;  and,  lo  !  between  the 
rubbish,  thorns,  and  thistles,  a  small  gate  was  visible, 
which,  in  truth,  Petermann  had  never  perceived  be 
fore. 

It  struck  twelve  o'clock  in  the  village.  The 
magician  placed  the  woodcutter  at  his  right  hand, — 
waved  three  times  in  the  air  with  his  wand,  pointing 
towards  the  north, — murmured,  with  much  grimace, 


THE  TREASURE.  273 

a  potent  spell, — directed  the  woodcutter  to  lay  aside 
all  iron  or  other  metal  that  he  might  have  about 
him, — and  then  drew  with  great  solemnity,  a  three- 
pronged  divining-rod  from  one  of  the  folds  of  his 
garment.  "  With  this  instrument,"  said  he,  "  be 
armed,  my  hero,  and  step  down  into  the  dwelling  of 
the  silent  people.  Three  doors  will  open  before  you 
at  its  touch  ;  cast  not  a  single  look  behind  you, — 
speak  not  a  word, — touch  nothing, — in  the  last 
chamber  you  may  take  three  grasps  with  both  your 
hands  at  whatever-  your  heart  wishes.  But  re 
member  :  one  word — and  every  thing  disappears. 
Be  prudent,  the  day  is  a  rare  one, — the  stars  are 
propitious, — all  the  powers  of  the  subterranean 
world  are  tamed  ;  go — be  silent ;  take — be  dar- 
ing." 

Petermann  took  one  of  the  points  of  the  rod  in 
each  hand,  as  the  magician  directed  him  ;  and  step 
ped  boldly  forward  over  the  loose  rubbish  till  he 
reached  the  iron  door.  At  the  first  touch  of  the 
rod  it  opened  with  a  creaking  noise,  and  the  simple 
woodcutter  was  nearly  shouting  aloud  when  he  heard 
the  very  same  sound  which  three  days  before  at 
tended  the  disappearance  of  the  little  dwarfs  in  the 
turret. 

But  his  mouth  was  instantly  shut  by  a  spasm  of 

disgust,  when  he  entered  a  dripping,  feebly  lighted 

chamber,  full  of  the  most  horrid  reptiles  he  ever 

saw  ; — it  seemed  the  audience-hall  of  the  toads  and 

13 


274  THE    TOKEN. 

salamanders  ;  bats  whistled  like  hail- showers  through 
the  air, — horrid  serpents  and  dragons  crept  hissing 
about  over  each  other, — all  the  spawn  of  poisonous 
nature  seemed  here  concentrated,  and  crawled  round 
the  feet  of  the  woodcutter  as  if  they  wished  to  bury 
him  in  a  living  tomb. 

Petermann,  however,  kept  steadily  on,  in  a 
straight  direction  towards  a  large  door,  which  he 
saw  through  the  clouds  of  bats,  directly  before  him. 
at  a  distance  of  about  fifty  steps.  He  touched  it, 
and  at  the  second  touch,  it  opened  with  a  shrill 
clear  sound  like  that  of  shivered  glass,  and  a  per 
fume  of  roses  and  a  rosy  light  streamed  upon  his 
intoxicated  senses.  "  My  stars  !  this  is  something 
better,"  thought  the  woodcutter.  But  how  did  he 
gape  to  behold,  close  upon  his  right  hand  as  he  en 
tered,  a  beautiful  lady  reclining  upon  a  splendid 
sofa,  who  raised  her  head  covered  with  beautiful 
ringlets,  threw  her  sparkling  glances  upon  him  as  he 
entered,  and  presented  him  with  a  magnificent 
golden  cup,  brimming  over  with  the  red  odorous 
juice  of  the  grape.  Petermann  was  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delight  and  surprise,  and  if  the  lady  had  spoken  he 
would  certainly  have  answered  her  merrily  without 
reflection.  Her  silence,  however,  and  the  solemn 
tranquillity  of  the  splendid  room,  overawed  him  so 
much,  that  his  tongue  remained  fettered,  and  he 
thus  gained  time  to  recover  from  his  trance  of  plea 
sure.  At  last  hesitating,  and  again  hesitating,  but 


THE   TREASURE.  275 

without  turning  his  head,  he  reached  the  third  door, 
which  was  a  folding  one  of  elegant  workmanship. 

Here  it  required  the  third  touch  of  the  rod  to 
open  the  two  leaves  of  the  door,  but  so  gently  and 
quietly  did  they  move,  that  they  seemed  rather  to 
disappear  than  to  open.  Petermann  was  instantly 
dazzled  by  the  indescribable  lustre  which  now  met 
his  eyes.  It  was  not  the  glare  of  candles  or  of  a 
fire,  neither  that  of  the  clear  sunbeams  when  they 
stream  through  a  window,  but  the  glitter  of  the 
heaps  of  treasure  which  produced  this  overpowering 
brilliance.  Silver,  gold,  precious  stones  of  every 
kind,  mother  of  pearl,  ivory,  corals,  treasures 
wrought  and  unwrought,  were  here  heaped  together 
in  a  number  of  chests,  boxes,  and  caskets,  or  placed 
on  the  table  or  on  boards  on  the  floor  ;  every  heap 
outshining  another  in  magnificenc  e.  In  truth,  the 
other  day,  the  two  little  bearded  folks  had  got  up 
into  the  sun  some  miserable  specimens  only  of  this 
imperial  treasure  ;  for  here  was  a  profusion  of  ele 
gant  vessels  alone,  which  even  a  sturdy  woodcutter 
would  have  had  trouble  enough  to  cary  above  ground 
in  thrice  twenty-four  hours. 

A  long  pause  of  astonishment  detained  Peter 
mann  upon  the  threshold  of  the  portal,  while  he 
felt  himself  deprived  of  the  power  of  speech  by  a 
kind  of  blissful  ecstasy  at  the  sight  of  the  treasures 
which  lay  here  at  his  command  ;  but  at  last,  a  loud 


276  THE    TOKEN. 

shout  of  astonishment,  "  Heavens  !  how  much  !  " 
burst  irresistibly  from  his  lips. 

Suddenly  a  crash  of  thunder  was  heard, — the 
darkness  of  the  darkest  night  fell  like  a  mountain 
over  the  subterranean  treasure, — the  hill  trembled 
to  its  foundation,  and  with  it  shook  the  heart  of  the 
child  of  man  who  had  ventured  down  into  its  re 
cesses  .Strength  and  consciousness  forsook  him,  while 
he  was  lifted  away  as  upon  the  wings  of  a  raging 
whirlwind,  and,  during  a  moment  of  dreadful  sus 
pense,  borne  backward  through  the  pitchy  darkness 
of  the  resounding  chamber. 

When  he  recovered  it  was  evening.  The  red 
dening  blaze  of  the  sky  threw  a  cheering  light  into 
the  eyes  of  the  poor  woodcutter  as  he  opened  them 
with  a  convulsive  motion,  unconscious  of  what  had 
happened  to  him,  and  not  daring  for  some  time  so 
much  as  to  look  around  him  or  move.  The  poor  fel 
low  then  got  his  two  elbows  placed  upon  his  knees, 
and  his  doubled  fists  applied  to  his  ears,  and  sat 
thus  like  an  immovable  image  of  stone  in  some  hea 
then  temple.  At  first  he  began  to  roll  his  eyes  and 
point  his  ears,  to  try  if  he  could,  without  moving, 
perceive  any  neighboring  object  which  could  recall 
to  his  recollection  what  had  happened  to  him.  At 
last  he  ventured  to  turn  his  head,  and  now  remem 
bering  distinctly  the  errant-scholar  in  black  robes, 
the  magic  wand,  the  divining  rod,  the  iron  gate, 
looked  fearfully  around  him  for  all  these  objects  as 


THE  TREASURE.  277 

they  presented  themselvs  to  his  memory,  but  in  vain. 
Something  now  rustled  close  to  him  among  the 
bushes,  and  he  leaped  up  with  terror,  but  was  gently 
called  back  into  the  reality  of  his  own  quiet  life, 
when  his  two  elder  children  jumped  out  of  the 
hazel- bushes,  and  behind  them  appeared  Salome, 
who  wished  him  a  happy  evening  in  dear  and  well- 
known  accents. 

The  faithful  Salome,  though  not  so  charming  as 
the  lady  in  the  vaults  of  the  castle,  but  with  an  ex 
pression  of  much  greater  good-will  in  her  counte 
nance,  sat  down  beside  him  upon  the  fallen  leaves, 
and  placed  the  two  children  between  their  father 
and  the  red  evening  glow.  "  Is  it  not  true,"  said 
she,  smiling — "  Is  it  not  true,  Petermann,  that  two 
such  little  golden  heads  are  worth  all  other  trea 
sures,  and  make  richer  than  many  a  king  ?  " 

At  this  moment,  the  song  of  the  errant -scholar 
seemed  to  resound  from  afar  : 

Abroad  for  fortune  wilt  thou  roam  ? 

Nay,  cease  the  fond  endeavor  : 
— She  dwells  at  home, — and  scorning  home, 

You  lose  your  chance  for  ever. 


THE  LOVER'S  LAST  VISIT. 

THE  window  of  the  lonely  cottage  of  Hilltop  was 
beaming  far  above  the  highest  birchwood,  seeming 
to  travellers  at  a  distance  in  the  long  valley  below, 
who  knew  it  not,  to  be  a  star  in  the  sky.  A  bright 
fire  was  in  the  kitchen  of  that  small  tenement ;  the 
floor  was  washed,  swept,  and  sanded,  and  not  a 
footstep  had  marked  its  perfect  neatness ;  a  small 
table  was  covered,  near  the  ingle,  with  a. snow-white 
cloth,  on  which  was  placed  a  frugal  evening  meal ; 
and  in  happy,  but  pensive  mood,  sat  there  all  alone 
the  Woodcutter's  only  daughter,  a  comely  and  gen 
tle  creature,  if  not  beautiful ;  such  an  one  as  dif 
fuses  pleasure  round  her  in  the  hay-field,  and  serenity 
over  the  seat  in  which  she  sits  attentively  on  the 
Sabbath,  listening  to  the  word  of  God,  or  joining 
with  mellow  voice  in  his  praise  and  worship.  On 
this  night,  she  expected  a  visit  from  her  lover,  that 
they  might  fix  their  marriage-day;  and  her  parents, 
satisfied  and  happy  that  their  child  was  about  to  be 
wedded  to  a  respectable  shepherd,  had  gone  to  pay 
a  visit  to  their  nearest  neighbor  in  the  glen. 

A  feeble  and  hesitating  knock  was  at  the  door, 
not  like  the  glad  and  joyful  touch  of  a  lover's  hand  ; 
and  cautiously  opening  it,  Mary  Eobinson  beheld  a 


TH3E     ACKO  ISP  TIED 


'  .;.. 


THE   LOVER'S  LAST  VISIT.  279 

female  figure  wrapped  up  in  a  cloak,  with  her  face 
concealed  in  a  black  bonnet.  The  stranger,  whoever 
she  might  be,  seemed  wearied  and  worn  out,  and  her 
feet  bore  witness  to  a  long  day's  travel  across  the 
marshy  mountains.  Although  she  could  scarcely 
help  considering  her  an  unwelcome  visitor  at  such 
an  hour,  yet  Mary  had  too  much  sweetness  of  dis 
position — too  much  humanity,  not  to  request  her  to 
step  forward  into  the  hut;  for  it  seemed  as  if  the 
wearied  woman  had  lost  her  way,  and  had  come 
towards  the  shining  window  to  be  put  right  upon 
her  journey  to  the  low  country. 

The  stranger  took  off  her  bonnet  on  reaching  the 
fire  ;  and  Mary  Kobinson  beheld  the  face  of  one 
whom,  in  youth,  she  had  tenderly  loved  :  although 
for  some  years  past,  the  distance  at  which  they  lived 
from  each  other  had  kept  them  from  meeting,  and 
only  a  letter  or  two,  written  in  their  simple  way, 
had  given  them  a  few  notices  of  each  other's  exist 
ence.  And  now  Mary  had  opportunity,  in  the  first 
speechless  gaze  of  recognition,  to  mark  the  altered 
face  of  her  friend, — and  her  heart  was  touched  with 
an  ignorant  compassion.  "For  mercy's  sake!  sit 
down,  Sarah  !  and  tell  me  what  evil  has  befallen 
you  ;  for  you  are  as  white  as  a  ghost.  Fear  not  to 
confide  any  thing  to  my  bosom  ;  we  have  herded 
sheep  together  on  the  lonesome  braes — we  have 
stripped  the  bark  together  in  the  more  lonesome 
woods  ; — we  have  played,  laughed,  sung,  danced  to 
gether  ; — we  have  talked  merrily  and  gaily,  but  inno- 


280  THE    TOKEN". 

cently  enough  surely,  of  sweethearts  together  ;  and, 
Sarah,  graver  thoughts,  too,  have  we  shared;  for 
when  your  poor  brother  died  away  like  a  frosted 
flower,  I  wept  as  if  I  had  been  his  sister ;  nor  can  I 
ever  be  so  happy  in  this  world  as  to  forget  him. 
Tell  me,  my  friend,  why  are  you  here,  and  why  is 
your  sweet  face  so  ghastly  ?  " 

The  heart  of  this  unexpected  visitor  died  within 
her  at  these  kind  and  affectionate  inquiries.  For  she 
had  come  on  an  errand  that  was  likely  to  dash  the 
joy  from  that  happy  countenance.  Her  heart  up 
braided  her  with  the  meanness  of  the  purpose  for 
which  she  had  paid  this  visit ;  but  that  was  only  a 
passing  thought ;  for  was  she,  innocent  and  free 
from  sin,  to  submit,  not  only  to  desertion,  but  to 
disgrace,  and  not  trust  herself  and  her  wrongs,  and 
her  hopes  of  redress,  to  her  whom  she  loved  as  a  sis 
ter,  and  whose  generous  nature,  she  well  knew,  not 
even  love,  the  changer  of  so  many  things,  could 
change  utterly  ;  though,  indeed,  it  might  render  it 
colder  than  of  old  to  the  anguish  of  a  female  friend  ? 

"  Oh  !  Mary,  I  must  speak — yet  must  my  words 
make  you  grieve,  far  less  for  me  than  for  yourself. 
Wretch  that  I  am — I  bring  evil  tidings  into  the 
dwelling  of  my  dearest  friend  !  These  ribands — they 
are  worn  for  his  sake — they  become  well,  as  he  thinks, 
the  auburn  of  your  bonny  hair  ; — that  blue  gown  is 
worn  to-night  becauses  he  likes  it  ; — but,  Mary,  will 
you  curse  me  to  my  face,  when  I  declare  before  the 
God  that  made  us,  that  that  man  is  pledged  unto 


THE   LOVER'S   LAST  VISIT.  281 

me  by  all  that  is  sacred  between  mortal  creatures  ; 
and  that  I  have  here  in  my  bosom  written  promises  and 
oaths  of  love  from  him  who,  I  was  this  morning  told, 
is  in  a  few  days  to  be  thy  husband  ?  Turn  me  out 
of  the  hut  now  if  you  choose,  and  let  me,  if  you  choose, 
die  of  hunger  and  fatigue  in  the  woods  where  we  have 
so  often  walked  together  ;  for  such  death  would  be 
mercy  to  me,  in  comparison  with  your  marriage  with 
him  who  is  mine  for  ever,  if  there  be  a  God  who 
heeds  the  oaths  of  the  creatures  he  has  made." 

Mary  Kobinson  had  led  a  happy  life,  but  a  life  of 
quiet  thoughts,  tranquil  hopes,  and  meek  desires. 
Tenderly  and  truly  did  she  love  the  man  to  whom 
she  was  now  betrothed  ;  but  it  was  because  she 
had  thought  him  gentle,  manly,  upright,  sincere,  and 
one  that  feared  God.  His  character  was  unimpeached, 
— to  her  his  behavior  had  always  been  fond,  affec 
tionate,  and  respectful  ;  that  he  was  a  fine-looking 
man,  and  could  show  himself  among  the  best  of  the 
country  round  at  church,  and  market,  and  fair-day, 
she  saw  and  felt  with  pleasure  and  with  pride.  But 
in  the  heart  of  this  poor,  humble,  contented,  and 
pious  girl,  love  was  not  a  violent  passion,  but  an  af 
fection  sweet  and  profound.  She  looked  forward  to 
her  marriage  with  a  joyful  sedateness,  knowing  that 
she  would  have  to  toil  for  her  family,  if  blest  with 
children  ;  but  happy  in  the  thought  of  keeping  her 
husband's  house  clean,  of  preparing  his  frugal  meals, 
and  welcoming  him  when  wearied  at  night  to  her 
faithful,  and  affectionate,  and  grateful  bosom. 


282  THE    TOKEN. 

At  first,  perhaps,  a  slight  flush  of  anger  towards 
Sarah  tinged  her  cheek  ;  then  followed  in  quick  suc 
cession,  or  all  blended  together  in  one  sickening  pang, 
fear,  disappointment,  the  sense  of  wrong,  and  the 
cruel  pain  of  disesteeming  and  despising  one  on 
whom  her  heart  had  rested  with  all  its  best  and  pu 
rest  affections.  But  though  there  was  a  keen  strug 
gle  between  many  feelings  in  her  heart,  her  resolu 
tion  was  formed  during  that  very  conflict  ;  and  she 
said  within  herself,  "  If  it  be  even  so,  neither  will  I 
be  so  unjust  as  to  deprive  poor  Sarah  of  the  man  who 
ought  to  marry  her,  nor  will  I  be  so  mean  and  low- 
spirited,  poor  as  I  am,  and  dear  as  he  has  been  unto 
me,  as  to  become  his  wife." 

While  these  thoughts  were  calmly  passing  in  the 
soul  of  this  magnanimous  girl,  all  her  former  affection 
for  Sarah  revived  ;  and,  as  she  sighed  for  herself,  she 
wept  aloud  for  her  friend.  "  Be  quiet,  be  quiet, 
Sarah,  and  sob  not  so  as  if  your  heart  were  breaking. 
It  need  not  be  thus  with  you.  Oh  !  sob  not  so  sair  ! 
You  surely  have  not  walked  in  this  one  day  from  the 
heart  of  the  parish  of  Montrath  ?  " — "  I  have  indeed 
done  so,  and  I  am  as  weak  as  the  wreathed  snaw. 
God  knows,  little  matter  if  I  should  die  away  ;  for, 
after  all,  I  fear  he  will  never  think  of  me  for  his  wife, 
and  you,  Mary,  will  lose  a  husband  with  whom  you 
would  have  been  happy.  I  feel,  after  all,  that  I 
must  appear  a  mean  wretch  in  your  eyes." 

There  was  silence  between  them  ;  and  Mary  Rob 
inson,  looking  at  the  clock,  saw  that  it  wanted 


THE  LOVER'S  LAST  VISIT.  283 

only  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  the  time  of 
tryst.  "  Give  me  the  oaths  and  promises  you  men 
tioned,  out  of  your  bosom,  Sarah,  that  I  may  show 
them  to  Gabriel  when  he  comes.  And  once  more  I 
promise,  by  all  the  sunny  and  all  the  snowy  days  we 
have  sat  together  in  the  same  plaid  on  the  hill-side, 
or  in  the  lonesome  charcoal  plots  and  nests  o'  green  in 
the  woods,  that  if  my  Gabriel — did  I  say  my  Gabriel  ? 
— has  forsaken  you  and  deceived  me  thus,  never  shall 
his  lips  touch  mine  again — never  shall  he  put  ring  on 
my  finger — never  shall  this  head  lie  in  his  bosom — 
no,  never,  never  ;  notwithstanding  all  the  happy,  too 
happy  hours  and  days  I  have  been  with  him,  near  or 
at  a  distance — on  the  corn-rig — among  the  meadow- 
hay,  in  the  singing- school — at  harvest-home — in  this 
room,  and  in  God's  own  house.  So  help  me  God, 
but  I  will  keep  this  vow  !  " 

Poor  Sarah  told,  in  a  few  hurried  words,  the  story 
of  her  love  and  desertion — how  Gabriel,  whose  busi 
ness  as  a  shepherd  often  took  him  into  Montrath 
parish,  had  wooed  her,  and  fixed  every  thing  about 
their  marriage,  nearly  a  year  ago.  But  that  he  had 
become  causelessly  jealous  of  a  young  man  whom  she 
scarcely  knew ;  had  accused  her  of  want  of  virtue, 
and  for  many  months  had  never  once  come  to  see 
her.  "  This  morning,  for  the  first  time,  I  heard  for 
a  certainty,  from  one  who  knew  Gabriel  well  and  all 
his  concerns,  that  the  banns  had  been  proclaimed 
in  the  church  between  him  and  you  ;  and  that  in  a 
day  or  two  you  were  to  be  married.  And  though  I 


284  THE    TOKEN. 

felt  drowning,  I  determined  to  make  a  struggle  for 
my  life — for  Oh  !  Mary,  Mary,  my  heart  is  not  like 
your  heart  :  it  wants  your  wisdom,  your  meekness, 
your  piety  :  and  if  I  am  to  lose  Gabriel,  will  I  de 
stroy  my  miserable  life,  and  face  the  wrath  of  God 
sitting  in  judgment  upon  sinners." 

At  this  burst  of  passion  Sarah  hid  her  face  with 
her  hands,  as  if  sensible  that  she  had  committed 
blasphemy.  Mary,  seeing  her  wearied,  hungry,  thirsty 
and  feverish,  spoke  to  her  in  the  most  soothing 
manner,  led  her  into  the  little  parlor  called  the 
Spence,  then  removed  into  it  the  table,  with  the  oat 
en  cakes,  butter,  and  milk  ;  and  telling  her  to  take 
some  refreshment,  and  then  lie  down  in  the  bed,  but 
on  no  account  to  leave  the  room  till  called  for,  gave 
her  a  sisterly  kiss,  and  left  her.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  outer  door  opened,  and  Gabriel  entered. 

The  lover  said,  "  How  is  my  sweet  Mary  ?  "  with 
a  beaming  countenance  ;  and  gently  drawing  her  to 
his  bosom,  he  kissed  her  cheek.  Mary  did  not — 
could  not — wished  not — at  once  to  release  herself 
from  his  enfolding  arms.  Gabriel  had  always  treat 
ed  her  as  the  woman  who  was  to  be  his  wife  ;  and 
though,  at  this  time,  her  heart  knew  its  own  bitter 
ness,  yet  she  repelled  not  endearments  that  were  so 
lately  delightful,  and  suffered  him  to  take  her  almost 
in  his  arms  to  their  accustomed  seat.  He  held  her 
hand  in  his,  and  began  to  speak  in  his  usual  kind 
and  affectionate  language.  Kind  and  affectionate  it 
was,  for  though  he  ought  not  to  have  done  so,  he 


THE  LOVER'S  LAST  VISIT.  285 

loved  her,  as  he  thought,  better  than  his  life.  Her 
heart  could  not,  in  one  small  short  hour,  forget  a  whole 
year  of  bliss.  She  could  not  yet  fling  away  with  her 
own  hand  what,  only  a  few  minutes  ago,  seemed  to 
her  the  hope  of  paradise.  Her  soul  sickened  within 
her,  and  she  wished  that  she  were  dead,  or  never  had 
been  born. 

"  0  Gabriel !  Gabriel !  well  indeed  have  I  loved 
you  ;  nor  will  I  say,  after  all  that  has  passed  between 
us,  that  you  are  not  deserving,  after  all,  of  a  better 
love  than  mine.  Vain  were  it  to  deny  my  love,  either 
to  you  or  to  my  own  soul.  But  look.me  in  the  face — 
be  not  wrathful — think  not  to  hide  the  truth  either 
from  yourself  or  me,  for  that  now  is  impossible — but 
tell  me  solemnly,  as  you  shall  answer  to  God  at  the 
judgment-day,  if  you  know  any  reason  why  I  must 
not  be  your  wedded  Vife."  She  kept  her  mild  moist 
eyes  fixed  upon  him  ;  but  he  hung  down  his  head 
and  uttered  not  a  word,  for  he  was  guilty  before  her, 
before  his  own  soul,  and  before  God. 

"  Gabriel,  never  could  we  have  been  happy  ;  for 
you  often,  often  told  me,  that  all  the  secrets  of  your 
heart  were  known  unto  me,  yet  never  did  you  tell 
me  this.  How  could  you  desert  the  poor  innocent 
creature  that  loved  you  ;  and  how  could  you  use 
me  so,  who  loved  you  perhaps  as  well  as  she,  but 
whose  heart  God  will  teach,  not  to  forget  you,  for 
that  may  I  never  do,  but  to  think  on  you  with  that 
friendship  and  affection  which  innocently  I  can  be 
stow  upon  you,  when  you  are  Sarah's  husband.  For 


286  THE    TOKEN. 

Gabriel,  I  have  this  night  sworn,  not  in  anger  or 
passion — no,  no — but  in  sorrow  and  pity  for  another's 
wrongs — in  sorrow  also,  deny  it  will  I  not,  for  my  own 
— to  look  on  you  from  this  hour,  as  on  one  whose 
life  is  to  be  led  apart  from  my  life,  and  whose  love 
must  never  more  meet  with  my  love.  Speak  not 
unto  me — look  not  on  me  with  beseeching  eyes. 
Duty  and  religion  forbid  us  ever  to  be  man  and  wife. 
But  you  know  there  is  one,  besides  me,  whom  you 
loved  before  you  loved  me^  and  therefore,  it  may  be, 
better  too  ;  and  that  she  loves  you,  and  is  faithful, 
as  if  God  had  made  you  one,  I  say  without  fear — I 
who  have  known  her  since  she  was  a  child,  although, 
fatally  for  the  peace  of  us  both,  we  have  long  lived 
apart.  Sarah  is  in  the  house,  and  I  will  bring  her 
unto  you  in  tears,  but  not  tears  of  penitence,  for  she 
is  as  innocent  of  that  sin  as  I  am,  who  now  speak/' 
Mary  went  into  the  little  parlor,  and  led  Sarah 
forward  in  her  hand.  Despairing  as  she  had  been, 
yet  when  she  had  heard  from  poor  Mary's  voice  speak 
ing  so  fervently,  that  Gabriel  had  come,  and  that  her 
friend  was  interceding  in  her  behalf — the  poor  girl 
had  arranged  her  hair  in  a  small  looking-glass — tied 
it  up  with  a  riband  which  Gabriel  had  given  her,  and 
put  into  the  breast  of  her  gown  a  little  gilt  brooch, 
that  contained  locks  of  their  blended  hair.  Pale  but 
beautiful,  for  Sarah  Pringle  was  the  fairest  girl  in  all 
the  country,  she  advanced  with  a  flush  on  that  pale 
ness  of  reviving  hope,  injured  pride,  and  love  that 
was  ready  to  forgive  all  and  forget  all,  so  that  once 


THE   LOVEK'S  LAST  VISIT.  287 

again  she  could  be  restored  to  the  place  in  his  heart 
that  she  had  lost.  "  What  have  I  ever  done,  Gabriel, 
that  you  should  fling  me  from  you  ?  May  my  soul 
never  live  by  the  atonement  of  my  Saviour,  if  I  am 
not  innocent  of  that  sin,  yea,  of  all  distant  thought  of 
that  sin  with  which  you,  even  you,  have  in  your 
hard-heartedness  charged  me.  Look  me  in  the  face, 
Gabriel,  and  think  of  all  I  have  been  unto  you,  and 
if  you  say  that  before  God,  and  in  your  own  soul,  you 
believe  me  guilty,  then  will  I  go  away  out  into  the 
dark  night,  and,  long  before  morning,  my  troubles 
will  be  at  end." 

Truth  was  not  only  in  her  fervent  and  simple 
words,  but  in  the  tone  of  her  voice,  the  color  of  her 
face,  and  the  light  of  her  eyes.  Gabriel  had  long 
shut  up  his  heart  against  her.  At  first  he  had  doubt 
ed  her  virtue,  and  that  doubt  gradually  weakened  his 
affection.  At  last  he  tried  to  believe  her  guilty,  or 
to  forget  her  altogether,  when  his  heart  turned  to 
Mary  Robinson,  and  he  thought  of  making  her  his  wife. 
His  injustice — his  wickedness — his  baseness — which 
he  had  so  long  concealed,  in  some  measure,  from 
himself,  by  a  dim  feeling  of  wrong  done  him,  and 
afterwards  by  the  pleasure  of  a  new  love,  now  appear 
ed  to  him  as  they  were,  and  without  disguise.  Mary 
took  Sarah's  hand  and  placed  it  within  that  of  her 
contrite  lover,  for  had  the  tumult  of  conflicting  pas 
sions  allowed  him  to  know  his  own  soul,  such  at  that 
moment  he  surely  was,  saying  with  a  voice  as  com- 


288  THE    TOKEN. 

posed  as  the  eyes  with  which  she  looked  upon  them, 
"  I  restore  you  to  each  other  ;  and  I  already  feel  the 
comfort  of  being  able  to  do  my  duty.  I  will  be 
bride' s-maid.  And  I  now  implore  the  blessing  of  God 
upon  your  marriage.  Gabriel,  your  betrothed  will 
sleep  this  night  in  my  bosom.  We  will  think  of  you, 
better,  perhaps,  than  you  deserve.  It  is  not  for  me 
to  tell  you  what  you  have  to  repent  of.  Let  us  all 
three  pray  for  each  other  this  night,  and  evermore 
when  we  are  on  our  knees  before  our  Maker.  The 
old  people  will  soon  be  at  home.  Good-night,  Ga 
briel."  He  kissed  Sarah — and  giving  Mary  a  look 
of  shame,  humility,  and  reverence,  he  went  home  to 
meditation  and  repentance. 

It  was  now  midsummer  ;  and  before  the  harvest 
had  been  gathered  in  throughout  the  higher  valleys, 
or  the  sheep  brought  from  the  mountain-fold,  Ga 
briel  and  Sarah  were  man  and  wife.  Time  passed 
on,  and  a  blooming  family  cheered  their  board  and 
fireside.  Nor  did  Mary  Kobinson,  the  Flower  of  the 
Forest,  (for  so  the  Woodcutter's  daughter  was  often 
called,)  pass  her  life  in  single  blessedness.  She,t  oo, 
became  a  wife  and  mother ;  and  the  two  families,  who 
lived  at  last  on  adjacent  farms,  were  remarkable  for 
mutual  affection,  throughout  all  the  parish,  and  more 
than  one  intermarriage  took  place  between  them,  at 
a  time  when  the  worthy  parents  had  almost  entire 
ly  forgotten  the  trying  incident  of  their  youth. 


THE   END. 


14  DAY  USE 

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